Mornings


The alarm clock blares into life at 6 a.m. At the second ear curdling bleep I roll over and hit the snooze and cuddle back up in the blankets. I have a total of nine minutes before the blasted thing shouts out its discordant tune again. In nine minutes I can drift back into a half-sleep awareness that lets me sort out where I am and what I need to do today.

Often times I get up before the second crowing of my rooster, but some mornings not. I try hard to hold on to those wisps of dreams before I truly wake up. Some days they are important. They are figments, pieces of things that I need to know, so that I can sort out what is in my head.

It makes the day go easier if I know what is going on. I don’t like jumping into things blind.

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