The day had started with music lulling me gently awake. Those were my best mornings – the ones that start with music. They usher in the day with the right energy. Simi’s “By You” was playing off my bluetooth speakers. It reminded me of the days when love was a perfect fairytale. Days when there were no bills to pay and prince charming didn’t wait for you to live half your life before finding you. It was the perfect morning except it was snowing outside and the plumped second pillow on my bed told me I was alone. I made to pray solat subh as I thought about the day ahead. I headed to the bathroom for ablution.

Simi’s voice started to fade as Kizz Daniel’s started to come up. I could either spend the morning letting the music take me or I could get ready for work. I chose the latter. It was also the perfect morning for hot chocolate but my mind was racing. So after the morning prayer,  I raided the fridge instead. I had stored a plate of Ogi from the day before.

My phone started to ring. It was my sister. I had a few hours to catch up with home before setting up for work. That’s the beauty of hybrid – less time commuting and more time strengthening relationships. Yet the six hour time difference is a lot of strain. It is both a blessing and a curse. While in reality I’m gaining six hours, it also meant I’m awake much earlier than I should be. Yet it’s so easy for the day slip by. Six in the morning Canadian time meant twelve noon Nigerian time. This meant by the time I’m finishing work for the day at 5pm or 6pm, almost everyone in West Africa was fast asleep. My mind went back to summer days when that difference was shorter. I wondered why the West got daylight savings at the onset of Fall and others didn’t. Why should some lose time so others could save theirs?

My mind came back to the present as my phone started to ring again.

“Hello babe, how far? Salam alaikum…”