I’m thankful to God for early mornings. My mom instilled an appreciate for “dark morning,” in me the first time she woke me (just me) up at 4:30, and dressed me. We could see our breath in the station wagon as we waited for it to warm up. She took me to Tastee Donuts and we sat at the counter. It was just us, a few truckers, the waitress and her red bouffant. I can’t remember what we talked about, but the feeling of camaraderie stuck with me. When all is still, and most still sleep, I feel slightly more connected to other early birds. That’s the time introspection is most effective; when I’m most primed to come to terms with who I am and who I’m not.
I like my morning vulnerability. I’m more likely to reveal my soft underbelly of thoughts before sunrise. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had coffee. Maybe it’s because I have a fair amount of faith in my early morning kindred. Maybe it’s because, sleep is a great experience for me. I don’t own the recently popularized “no-sleep” mentality, adopted by so many moguls in training. Sleep is the good stuff, so when I sleep, I go IN without apology. Apparently, in addition to snoring, I contentedly moan in my sleep. I can’t attest to that. What I do know is that when I wake up, there’s a lot of cat stretching and lip smacking, as though I had the finest of canaries as a snack. Waking up that way, I can only assume, makes me more open.
When you go out to mill among other early birds, there are always a few more doors opened for you with an extra good morning thrown in. You’re far more likely to get extra butter on your biscuit or cream in your coffee when you’re at the right place early in the morning. You speak softer and lean in closer, because you want to preserve the stillness by not waking the “others.”
But don’t call me a “morning person.” I most certainly am not. I have a healthy appreciation for all of life’s moments and secret joys.