I generally wake up between 7-8 every morning. That’s when I wake up. Then I lie there and think. I prioritize my day: what do I need to accomplish today? I make mental lists that will eventually end up on physical lists. I reach over and grab my iPod. I read the headlines in the Kansas City Star. I see what’s been happening on Facebook over night. I check any email that has come in thus far and reply from there. I text back and forth with Scott (who has already been up for hours before me.) I answer any texts from Hannah that generally start with, “Hey. I need for you to…” Then after that slow and unwinding routine is finished, I get up.
[Side note: Lest you are tempted to think, “Wow. I wish I had that luxury but I have to WORK for a living.” Let me reassure you that I do not get off at 5pm. Or 6pm. Or many times even 9pm. I am a long-hour-a-day worker and quite frankly do very little else than work in my life. Which is okay; it’s the routine that works best for me. I love it. But it does (on most days) afford me the privilege of being a slow getter-upper.]
That said, once I’ve lifted my body out of bed and groggily walk into the living room, it thrills my soul to see this:
“What?”, you ask? Look closer. (ignore the mess)
See how the sunlight is desperately trying to eek through the blinds? See it?! It instantly makes my insides leap for joy. I know that once I’ve unleashed their slated reins, the sun will burst forth into my room, flooding it like water in the Titantic. Splashing into every crevice of my winter-laden home.
Then the next picture will be of me.
Standing in the middle of all that rising bright warmth,
with a cup of my morning Coke in hand drinking in its caffeine
and all that lovely sunshine…