Aidan McBrien

28 November 2021

First-Year Writing

Prof. Roeder

Waking Up

Walking to work seems to be my only moment of clarity these days. The crisp morning

air snaps me awake from last night’s grogginess in preparation for today’s toil. I have the

opportunity to enjoy the quiet outside when cars have yet to start, and people roll out of bed.

Every day on my walk, I pass by a small enclosure, many animals with their own living spaces

bound within a yard. I never understood who lived there or why they had so many animals.

Maybe a pet lover? Veterinarian? Breeder? No sign or indication specifies the location; for me, it

all served as a reminder of a dream long past. Alas, my time of respit ends as I approach the

entrance of my shackles.

Here he comes again, right on time. Every day he comes in at the same exact time and

orders the same exact drink, like clockwork, leaving without a word- or a tip. I don’t know who

he is, at least not personally. My coworkers and I just refer to the guy by his order, medium-hot

light and sweet. I know it’s a little odd, but it adds some character to the regulars that come

through, not that he needs much more. The man stands around 6’9-6’10, bald with a full

snow-white beard, resembling a mix between Santa Clause and your favorite NBA player. I like

to use medium-hot as a marker for my day, the time passed, and how much more I have left to

get out of here. I swear it’s like I can’t escape this place; I wake up, go to work, get home, eat,
shower, sleep and repeat the cycle. The worst part is- I spend so much time here it feels like I

serve customers in my dreams! Days-off are fleeting while shifts drag on.

Today, the rush is bad, very bad. The line is mounting, one of our ovens is

malfunctioning, and management stuck us with two newbies, a recipe for disaster. And I know I

wasn’t the only one frustrated as medium-hot finally decided to speak up so he could chastise us.

So we work swiftly amongst the chaos until it hits me, literally. There’s a sharp and then

throbbing pain in the back of my head. All I hear is my co-worker repeatedly apologizing she

accidentally hit me in the head with a full coffee pot during the confusion. Together, we conquer

the rush, but my head is splitting with so much pain that I need to go home. One less than

memorable walk home, and I find myself in front of my medicine cabinet. After fumbling for the

painkillers, I take the required dosage and crash into bed and the sweet embrace of sleep.

Waking up was surprisingly easy, and my head pain had vanished. The only thing is, this

is not my bed, at least not my current bed. Nostalgia comes flooding in as with every look

around the room. My old baseball-themed bed in the center of the room, the football lamp on the

nightstand, and the star projector nightlight illuminating the room all bring back warm memories.

This is my old home, the first house my family lived in when I was a child. I follow the sounds

of television coming from downstairs, and a kid is sitting there watching cartoons. From the

looks of it, that kid is… me? He, or I, look, so content sitting there, watching tv without a care in

the world. I must be around 8 or 9 years here, 14 years prior to my current age. I miss those days

of blissful ignorance without having to take orders and prepare coffee for ungrateful customers

day in and day out. Finally, a voice calls to young me, dinner is ready, and come to the table. The

boy ran to our kitchen, met with an old family classic of steak and potatoes.
 Mom, dad, and my sister all look so much younger. I remember we would eat together

every night, and I would hear how many babies my mom helped deliver at the hospital that day.

My sister and I would always take turns guessing how many boys and girls were born. It seems

that no one at the table can see me, but I sit down with them to listen to their conversation.

Young me seems particularly excited at the table, eager to share what happened at school today

with the family. A scientist came to the classroom to teach us all about the different types of

animals from each kingdom, presenting them live and letting several students hold them. I

remember being one of five students picked to hold the 8-foot snake. Now that I look back on it,

the man seemed more like a zookeeper than a scientist, but I didn’t know the difference at the

time. The child version of me continued to tell our family all that we had learned with stars in his

eyes.

I remember being obsessed with exotic animals after that point. I begged my mom and

dad for so snakes, birds, lizards, dogs, along with a few outrageous asks (foxes and large snakes

included). Eventually they caved and bought me a gecko which sadly passed away after 8 years.

I would spend the entirety of middle and high school working strenuously to get good grades and

involved in learning as much as I could about different species. That day inspired me to pursue

my dream of working with animals.

The good times stopped in college. I chose to study to become a wildlife biologist but

was struggling through my courses. Assignments and tests seemed unending and

insurmountable; I was losing my love for the topic. Eventually, I found myself uninspired and

unmotivated to do work and dropped out of school. A few months passed, and I found myself in

a job I hate serving medium-hot every day, a quitter. Everything changes now. This isn’t where I

am meant to be, and it wasn’t what I am meant to do. I should be out researching exotic creatures
or discovering new species. It isn’t just young me who wants to be a scientist; it’s current me. I

owe it myself to go back and finish what I started and achieve my goal. I owe it to me who

couldn’t wait to share his day at school with the family, to me who worked his tail off studying in

high school, and to me who wants more than to be slinging drinks. I promise to be better.

Waking up, I find myself back in my bed, the one I initially fell asleep in. There’s still

some residual pain from a headache, but nothing that stops the fire lit under my seat. I have a

goal, a mission, a purpose. The job I once dreaded now funds the pursuit of my desire, the quiet

walk now used for planning, I will finish my degree and bring color back to my life. There’s

something again that makes every day unique, every day an opportunity. Waking up from that

dream, woke me up to life. It’s time to make a little boy’s dreams come true.