Why I love the morning

A meditation

This time of the day is mine. All mine.

I wake up between 5:30 and 6. Which is hard when I regularly wake up with the little girl human down the hall at 1am and coax her back to sleep.

But I do it anyways.

I usually only get about 6 hours of sleep. But having this part of the day all to myself charges my battery. Moreso than if I were to sleep another hour and miss it.

I’m glad no one else is up with me right now. Because for some reason, my flatulence is at its peak at this time of morning. It’s downright offensive, and considering I live with females, they just don’t understand. Well, the little one does. She farts with gusto.

Anyways, where was I? Oh, right, the morning routine…

If I miss it, I’m cranky all day. I’m drained. My rhythm is off. And I find it hard to recover.

Getting up and going right away is hell for me. I have to slowly wake up to the day.

When I first come out here, the street outside is dark. I sit on the couch with my coffee.

Slowly, I notice lights turn on as my neighbors wake up.

A new day is starting. And I have a front row seat.

I can’t help but think — what will happen today in all these people’s lives? Maybe someone will get a promotion at work, achieve a personal best at the gym, propose to a loved one, or get fired. I have no idea. The possibilities are endless…

But I sit here and sip my coffee. I write my morning pages — a 750 word stream of consciousness. And then I write something like this to share with the world.

The girls sleep down the hall. And I sit here. Take in the rising sun. And create.

There is no other place I’d want to be.

Good morning.

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