Early Morning

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.“