I promised Victoria from Raindrops and Moonlight that I would post about mornings. I wanted to comment about them on her blog, but as I wrote, I realized I was writing a lot. So I decided to say something here instead.
I love to wake up at six - over an hour before anyone else in the house - and be prepared for the day before the hustle and bustle. If I get up when my alarm goes off, I usually have plenty of time to sit down and work on a story before people get up. It's perfectly pleasant to have the silence of the house to oneself for half a short hour.
This morning was very dark and rainy. My alarm went off at six and I shoved it under my pillow until I could shut it off to avoid waking my roommate. The air was chilly, and the sheets were warmed by my electric blanket. My poor head suffered from a great lack of sleep and it was heavy. I rolled back and forth, dozing, until seven. Then the heat turned on, and it's a funny thing, but it was like a signal. Something in my mind seemed to click on. I reluctantly threw back the covers and was met with a brisk chill as I remembered that I was still wearing the t-shirt and skirt and leggings I'd thrown on last evening after ballet.
My roommate was partially awake. It's not always easy to tell, but I was pretty sure this morning. I grabbed up my makeup bag and crept to the bathroom, hearing all the floorboards creek along the way. The stillness was thick enough to cut with a knife. On my way back to my room, things had not changed at all. Even my sister, who always got up at 7:15, showed no signs of stirring from her room.
The clock soon hit 7:40 and there wasn't a peep, except from me. I was alternately humming softly and signing under my breath. My roommate moaned from her bed and refused to get up. "Well, Rach, it doesn't look like anyone else is up either, so I guess you can stay in as long as you want."
I took my laundry through the house to the mudroom and loaded it into the wash. Then I took my Macbook into the kitchen and played Donald O'Connor vids while I emptied the dishwasher. The kitchen was dimly lit by the lights under the cabinets, and to add a sweet little touch, I lit the two candles on the table. I was so wonderful being the only one up, spending time with myself.
So that's my morning. And it reflects the way I generally feel about mornings, even when my brother refuses to get up until the very moment we have to go, and my sister is getting cranky because we're not leaving on time. If I have that little time to myself, a little happy time first thing in the morning, it makes all the difference.