Awake at 3:15 in the morning again.
My dog, Buddy, and I have getting
out of the bed quietly down to a fine art.
We don’t want to wake my husband.
I wouldn’t want anyone else to be
awakened at this early hour, even
my worst enemy, much less my husband,
whom I actually like as well as love.
After leaving the bedroom, Buddy
and I are on automatic pilot.
I pad to the restroom, wash my hands,
put on my bathrobe, and then pad
down the hall to the kitchen where
I let Buddy out the back patio door
while I start making my first cup of coffee.
I thank the Keurig coffee maker for existing.
I let Buddy back in from the deep dark,
give him a treat, pick up my coffee cup,
and then into the living room we go.
He settles in the middle of the floor,
staring at his treat as though it is planning a
great escape just to vex him.
I turn on my lamp by hitting it’s button on
the floor with my foot.
Gentle light pools around my chair.
I sink down into my chair,
take a sip of coffee, pray,
and then pick up my iPad so I can
read a while and then write a while,
if my writing muse has awakened, that is.
I once thought my dad was insane to
arise at 4:00 every morning and could
no more understand why he did it than
he could understand why I slept until 7:00
every morning when I had to be at work at 8:00,
getting my sons ready for school and there
I understand him now when he said,
“I get up at 4:00 because I wake up at 4:00
and know I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep.”
It must be an age related, inherited trait.
Finally at 6:00 AM, my sweet husband
arises sleepily, and goes through much
the same routine I did earlier.
After his cup of coffee is ready and
we kiss good morning,
I realize that dawn is peeking
through the curtains that cover
the east side patio doors.
I go to the backyard to watch
the sun come up.
I love watching the sun arise
In the dawn’s early light I realize,
I’ve been up for over three hours and,
suddenly I’m very, very sleepy.
© Elaine Wood-Lane