As you may or may not have heard, I was sick on Memorial Day and still pretty soupy on Tuesday. We got the paper out, because I have a terrific staff and it is all a bad memory now. But while I was ill, I did a lot of sleeping and got my timetable turned upside down. I have always been an early bird but waking up at 4:15 a.m. is a little extreme.
However, there is gold in the morning hours. For one thing, no one is going to call or text you at that time of day. For another, it is quiet. And because it’s June, it’s a different quiet, even by 6 a.m. There is no soft rumbling of households getting children ready to catch the school bus. There is not even much traffic, with the exception of a few semis out on the highway.
Even the local alley cats seemed to have ceased their yowling and prowling. In those still, peaceful moments come clarity. The brain can recognize and appreciate the beautiful pure warble of a mockingbird, a sound that might otherwise be overlooked. It is almost like being able to hear the world waking up, all soft and frowzy with sleep, like a beloved, tousled child.
The hours before the workday begins are perfect for work. Not the kind that feeds the family, the kind that feeds the soul. It is a matchless time to think big thoughts, repolish dreams and plans, while your hands pull weeds or wash dishes or stitch a quilt top.
There is even a built in timer. When the sun gets high enough that you can tell what the weather is going to be, even if it’s only that split second thought ‘Going to be warm today,’ well, it’s time to go inside and wash your hands and prepare to deal with the rest of the world, the world that didn’t get up at 4:15 a.m.
I’m sure that as my inner clock begins to right itself my sleep patterns will return to normal and I will only occasionally see 4:15 when I stagger past it to go to the bathroom. But hopefully I will get up at that time, if only infrequently. Early is the best part of the day and all too many people miss it. That’s to their loss.