My house is crazy. Five children, two dogs, a lizard, two fish tanks (saltwater at that, and if you know anything about fish tanks, you know saltwater is time consuming, temperamental and there are the joyous expenses) and a husband… my house is chaos. And while I love the chaos, in fact, for the most part I thrive on it, there is one part of the day that I always look forward to… 5:45 am.
AM you say? Yes, 5:45 AM. I used to have a little feathered friend that lived in one of the trees outside my house. Every morning he would wake me up at about 5:30. His chirping was a signal to me, a sign that it was time for me to wake up and face the day. For about 10 minutes each morning, I hated that bird, but then I would throw off the covers, sit up, and make up my mind to face the day. I would stumble into the bathroom, wipe the sleep from my eyes, and put my glasses on. I’d struggle to remember what might have been on the night before, and every once in awhile, I’d remember that something I was looking forward to came on, and it was now waiting for me on my DVR. I would sneak out of our bedroom, careful not to wake my husband, and creep down the stairs. I’d turn the light on and flop on the couch. Sometimes I would just sit there, enjoying the silence. Other times I’d let out my pent up breath and turn on the TV right away. But no matter what I would chose to do that morning (read, work on my computer, watch TV, or just sit in silence), I knew that the quiet time was precious. It was a time just for me, a time for me to sit, to wonder, to dream, to hope. It was a time to forgive. A time for me to decide to let go of the pain that was in my heart. And sometimes it was a time for me to actually remember the pain that was in my heart and to relish it. Why you ask? Because it reminded me that I was still here. I was still alive and kicking.
Roy and I don’t hear the little bird any more. I hope he just moved on, but my body, so used to waking up at that time, does so on its own now. I start to stir around 5:30-5:45 every morning, and some mornings I lay in bed and eventually fall back to sleep curled up next to the warmth that is my sweet, sleeping husband. But other mornings, I open my eyes and immediately I am wide awake. And since I know my tossing and turning will disturb Roy, I creep out of bed, put my glasses on, slip my nightgown over my head and head downstairs. I still do the same thing- sit in silence, work on my computer, or maybe just watch TV.
After about 10 minutes of such acts, I realize that it is time for me to get my morning dose of caffeine. I walk into the kitchen, turning on the lights as I go… often shaking my head at the mess that is my kitchen table. I open the pantry and get out one of my little K-cups (Aside: My favorite right now is Island Coconut). After I make my coffee, I sit on my sofa and usually wonder how best to approach Roy, so I might get a new sofa out of him… that crimson one in Pottery Barn is calling my name! And then I look up and wonder what color I should paint the wall behind my fireplace. I wonder if I should call my mom today, or maybe I should just email her at that very moment. Do I have to go anywhere today, because if so, I have to adjust my wardrobe to allow that? Do the kids have anything I need to sign or go over for school? But then I decide I am just going to kick back and enjoy my cup of coffee.
And then I hear my 13 year old running down the stairs, “Hey mom! Morning!”
And the quiet is blissfully shattered!
