As of late, I'm seeing 6 AM again from the flipside. Reminds me of those times when I was a kid my mother woke me and my brother to get ready for school. That state of being, hearing keen, understanding what is actually being said, not so keen. Eyes squinting, grimacing questioningly at a familiar surrounding. Hair a-flair. I thought I'd always remember anytime before 6 AM this way. The smell of cafe con leche. But now it's you. It's the victorious smell of our congress last night. No rum, no cookies and milk on our breath, no late night french fries, or baking soda toothpaste even. It's this scent that reminds me you will linger until you really have to go. The scent that hugs me and whispers that most likely you'll be here again tomorrow, to wake me before you go and kiss me the sweetest morning kiss anew each time. Suddenly, I want to feel awake faster, so I can fully grasp the essence of you as my personal horizon.