Morning

People, generally, do not like mornings. They associate them with alarms, stubbing toes as they walk bleary-eyed to the bathroom, or the end of their dreams from the night prior. Not me. I'm one of those dreaded morning people. You know the type. We jump out of bed ready to start the day, excited for the possibilities ahead--a whole day as yet unspoiled. What's not to love about that? Don't glare and roll your eyes. Simply because I enjoy mornings does not mean I'll bring my chipper self to your doorstep and sing merrily in a Snow White pitch. I've learned to keep a low profile until I assess the mood of my given crowd.

You keep to your distaste for mornings. I'll maintain my delight. There's something fanciful in awaking before the rest of the house or the sun. Dusky sky, groggy birds, slight breeze. Quiet. A brisk run through all of it. I love returning from exercise to get ready for the day, sneak downstairs and prepare my breakfast. It is unequivocally my favorite meal of the day, and as much as I love experimenting with different flavors and textures, my breakfast options remain rather fixed: two pieces grainy toast dressed with Skippy natural peanut butter, one large Granny Smith apple, and a mug or two of steaming black tea, usually Earl Grey or Irish Breakfast. I eat these slowly as I read wherever I happen to be in my reading and journal my subsequent thoughts. The sun creeps up slowly. He's a curiously reticent morning feature; he's only in it for the job.

Starting the day at its best is worth a little less sleep or wearing glasses in lieu of contacts to help my sleepy eyes. Well, most days...