Early Bird
Rising early has it perks. For me it gets precious alone time and space for at least an hour, in the safety and confines of home. Long before the house is stirred into action, I go through my small rituals, undisturbed, in silence, unobserved. What a cigarette would have done for in the past, making coffee now becomes that all-important final phase of decompression from sleep. I marvel at the zen-like quality to it, a steaming cup of camel-colored brew, with vapors languidly rising out of it, much like a snake seduced awake by its hypnotic charmer, to implore the warmth of it to moist the brows, clear cobwebs off the head, and soothe those achy bones, so recently petrified from the biting cold of sleep.
In the quietude of 4:30 am, every motion becomes all important and deliberate. Open the front door, let the dogs out to do their business, this being the very time they have to go, which make them such good dogs, so loved, and who love you back even more. Then pick up the newspaper, by now neatly scattered in two or three parts on the floor, hurled by the newspaper boy who, for each passing day, you come to respect more and more. People like them are the invisible hands that fairies are made of. They give wings to the news, that would have aggravated you more, if it weren't known to you. And then you realize how the world is so small, so codependent, and made complete by the ever presence of so many others, which makes you appreciate the little alone time that you have, yet grateful for the hand that switched the lamp post on outside, that illuminates you in your quiet thoughts, in the abnormal darkness of these early mornings.
I love the structure and simplicity of it, these mornings that I begin the day with. I make them up so I'll hardly ever be getting up on the wrong side of the bed that way. And by the time the sunlight is slowly creeping in, and everyone else begin rubbing the sleep off of their eyes, my day would already be in full swing. And I know I've got the edge.
Filed Under: Favorite Things
In the quietude of 4:30 am, every motion becomes all important and deliberate. Open the front door, let the dogs out to do their business, this being the very time they have to go, which make them such good dogs, so loved, and who love you back even more. Then pick up the newspaper, by now neatly scattered in two or three parts on the floor, hurled by the newspaper boy who, for each passing day, you come to respect more and more. People like them are the invisible hands that fairies are made of. They give wings to the news, that would have aggravated you more, if it weren't known to you. And then you realize how the world is so small, so codependent, and made complete by the ever presence of so many others, which makes you appreciate the little alone time that you have, yet grateful for the hand that switched the lamp post on outside, that illuminates you in your quiet thoughts, in the abnormal darkness of these early mornings.
I love the structure and simplicity of it, these mornings that I begin the day with. I make them up so I'll hardly ever be getting up on the wrong side of the bed that way. And by the time the sunlight is slowly creeping in, and everyone else begin rubbing the sleep off of their eyes, my day would already be in full swing. And I know I've got the edge.
Filed Under: Favorite Things
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