When my mind wanders to the subject of this blog, it quickly tries to fill the hole in my submission record with a dramatic tale - me, live-blogging daily as the world around me collapses. Why such dark images are conjured up when I consider writing my thoughts down is still a mystery - left for another entry.
I love early mornings - the quiet, the sunrise, the independence. I walk to work and the air is cool and crisp: enough to make your hands numb but not enough to seep into your core. Today I’m at work at 6:07 and (once I finish this) ready to jump-start what I hope will be a productive day.
Early mornings have a downside though, a double-edged sword. It is leaving the house before the three people I care most about wake up. Jerry, in particular, is especially distraught when I leave early. Two out of three mornings it will drive him to tears to find me missing. If I don’t leave the house before he wakes up, then I’m committed to spending at least thirty minutes with him and more likely an hour. It is just as difficult for me to separate myself from him.
He’s so good at waking up soon after me that I have to wake up at five AM if I’m to get an early start. Last night before bed he stated plainly, “Daddy, I wake up when you do.“