A perfect morning

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Golden Hour.”

The prompt asked, “6:00 AM: the best hour of the day, or too close to your 3:00 AM bedtime?”

My alarm goes off at 5:30 am on the mornings that I haven’t already turned it off and began my day.  Sometimes I grumble to myself as I stumble into the bathroom to begin my morning routine.  My last stop in on the way to the kitchen or should I say on the way to my Keurig, is at my scale, which is something I’ve done for so many years, it’s a more of a habit than anything.  It’s reading doesn’t make any difference in my mood; it just lets me know if I should lighten things up.

Coffee done, in goes the sugar and half and half; some things I just will not give up! Holding one of the lovely cups given to me by friends who know my love of coffee and tea, I make my way to my favorite spot.  Before I sit, I open the blinds where I can watch God display the colors of a morning sunrise.  The birds are waking too and sing to their Creator with unabashed fervor.

After sufficient sips of hot java, and enough blinking where my eyes begin to see clearly, on go my cheaters and my bible is opened and on my lap.  Feet up and feeling so peaceful, I began to receive my daily spiritual nourishment.  After prayer and meditation on the Word, my day can continue with me feeling strengthened and ready to take on anything.

At some point in my morning, usually a bit later, my husband wakes up and comes to find me to give me a morning hug and kiss.  This happens every morning without fail unless one of us is travelling and it is one of the highlights of my day.  I smile when I hear him walking toward me, thankful that this is still our reality after 21 years as husband and wife.

I have described the perfect morning at my house.  It varies from time to time, but if any of this is missing, the day seems to sputter and I falter and things just don’t go as smooth.  Yes, for me, the perfect morning is described above.

Opportunities are like sunrises, if you wait too long, you miss them.

William Arthur Ward

A night owl but not by choice

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.”

Sleep is one-third of our lives: write a post about it. Do you love naps? Have trouble falling alseep? Wish you could remember your dreams? Remember something especially vivid? Snuggle under a blanket, or throw the windows wide open? Meditate on sleep.

Ahh, sleep.  Something I think about many times a day, as I yawn (and I just made myself yawn by thinking about it).  A self-confessed morning person, sleeping in for me means 6:30 or 7:00 am at the very latest.  This is great, I love the morning; the coffee, the sun rise, the dew on the ground.  Now, if my body would just cooperate on the sleeping part, things would be great.

I have good intentions; I try to go to bed before ten; you know, the actual lying down part.  Since my alarm goes off at 5:30 on most mornings, 9:30 should be the goal for slumber, providing I am aiming for a full 8 hours.  There are times when I can fall asleep pretty fast, but if my husband comes to bed later, or is watching t.v., I will wake up.  I am a very light sleeper; always have been.  Often, I wake up when a coconut falls and hits our dock outside, or if the neighbor’s dog barks or if a helicopter flies over (which creeps me out anyway at night).

On a good night after being awakened, I can fall back to sleep in about an hour.  Well, I could if it weren’t for the other problem.  My husband is out like a light and can sleep through a hurricane, but all the while, he is snoring.  Yes, I know I can get up and go to another room but then I’m looking at another hour to get settled.  Since I have written about snoring before; a fictional story in That’s absurd and the real deal in Sleeping with the Enemy I won’t elaborate further about that struggle here.

I tell myself that the one nap a week I allow myself, on Sunday afternoons, somehow makes up for it, but I know that isn’t true.  The only other time I nap is if I’m sick.

Tonight, as I turn down the thermostat and snuggle under the covers, I will dream (while I’m awake) of a full night’s sleep; the kind where you close your eyes and they don’t open again until morning, the kind I don’t remember ever having, although I’m sure I did in my younger days.  For now, it’s time to start watching the clock and attempting once again to “go to bed earlier”, a plan I’ve been working towards for months now.

And yes, I do have dreams too, but the ones I remember are few and far between and often feature snakes so we won’t go there.  Sweet dreams!

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