The morning

Such peace and quiet at 6am. It’s out of frame, but the cat is standing on my foot.

It’s such a nice time, when the sun’s just popping up and it’s a fresh new day. Where I live, it’s quiet save for the river in the yard. It’s my last chance to have some Fred time before the onslaught begins. I just mowed the lawn yesterday, so the yard looks and smells nice. When I first open my cabin door, I get greeted with all of this. I step out, usually the cat comes from out of nowhere and starts figure-8-ing my feet.

My father was an early riser, too. He used to get up at some ungodly hour, ride his motor scooter 3 miles up the highway to Mishawaka (a local bar/restaurant/concert venue), and talk to the people who had spent the night there, often smoking up random people. He’d also take a metal detector, and pick up all sorts of money off the ground.

Sometimes you can be a morning person, even without trying. What happens if you stay up all night and greet the dawn? After a night of hard partying, I always felt like the sunrise was your cue to wind it down.

I find it interesting that I work at night, and frequently even on non-work nights, stay up until 1 or 2 am. It doesn’t matter. My body wakes when it sees light outside, so here I am at 6 am. There’s always coffee. I’ll continue to get up early, even if it means I have to catch a nap later. Just for that couple of hours of solitude.

Have a great day, faithful reader(s)!

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