This morning when I woke up, the clock read 7:54. I haven’t slept that late in a while.
Funny how that happens. Not too long ago, it seems, there were weeks – months? years? – that I didn’t see a time earlier than 7:54 on the clock upon awakening. Those were luxurious days.
There’s no real reason for me to get up earlier than this most days. The kids are old enough to get their days started even if the covers are pulled up over my head. My husband doesn’t care if I’m up or not when he leaves for work.
I get up early anyway. I have learned to love the morning. Those minutes (hours) of quiet before anyone else is up are mine. They have been assigned the feeling of luxuriousness that I remember from years ago, of lolling in bed until way past sunrise. I love to be the first one to greet my family when they tumble out of bed and shuffle to the kitchen still half asleep, eyes squinting against the light above the kitchen table, the smell of coffee fresh in their noses.
But still. To sleep in - sigh.
|photo via death to the stock photo|
The week before Christmas and New Year’s is typically a busy one for us. Unlike most people, for us this week is not any less action-packed than the weeks leading up to the end of the year due to a couple of things: our close-but-not-that-close proximity from our respective families and the get togethers we plan to ensure that our long-held traditions of family-filled holidays stay intact.
We made a last minute decision not to go anywhere this week, so we are home. Okay, I made a last minute decision not to go anywhere this week.
I just couldn’t do One. More. Thing. Or go One. More. Place. Or – gasp – visit One. More. Loved One. I didn’t want to stop the mail and do laundry and pack and drive and sleep in someone else’s house and visit and drive and unpack and do laundry and clean the house and get ready for school and work and life. I wanted the kids to be home so they could hang out with their friends and watch TV all day, spend a little Christmas money and return gifts that didn’t fit. I wanted to do the same.
So the clock read 7:54 when I woke up this morning. I didn’t have anything special to do, or to be, or anyplace special to go. My body knew that today was the first of seven days that had no plan, no agenda, no have-to or must-go or should-see on the List of Things. It felt luxurious.
Just as I remember.