sunrise, sunshine.

When I was little, I would wake at seven on Saturdays, before the rest of my family, beginning my day with the company of Zach and Kelly and Screech and the rest of Saved by the Bell's cast. A few years later, once I had discovered cooking, I would start the pancakes, again, before the rest of my family rose. I am one of those morning people; I love waking with the day. There's something inherently beautiful in the process of sleeping, closing out the past, and waking with newness, and with possibility. And that's what I see when I am out and about at a day's beginning. There's something raw and lovely about bumping into people in the waking hours, when they are just starting too, and a day's direction can go so many different ways.

Since being here, however, I have closed the book on mornings. I open the pages, read the first few lines, and then slam it shut, eventually waking chapters later. When I very first arrived here, I think it was because I was genuinely exhausted. There was the time change I had to deal with, I'd just ran a really long distance, the distance's training had imposed a lot of stress on my body, and in the midst of all of that, I had packed up my life and left most of it behind. I needed to rest, I didn't have any where to be, and so I used the mornings to catch up.

A little later, I found employment at a restaurant. Said restaurant is only open for dinner, and most of the evenings I work, it closes at ten-thirty in the evening. This is not too late, though it used to be my bedtime. By the time I leave, it's usually eleven...I wait on the bus...get off the bus...walk the block home...and by the time I have finished all of the evening's necessary tasks, it's rarely earlier than one in the morning. At seven, when I would like to be up for the day, I am still. sound. asleep.

And this makes me feel like I am truly missing out.

So this week I decided to implement some goals. Goal one: drink more water. I bought a re-usable water bottle. It's working. Goal two: Get up at eight. I down loaded an alarm onto my I-Telephone. I set it. Monday, I shut it off. And then I shut it off again. And then I got up at nine, patting myself on the back because I had risen before time reached double digits. And then, around the time that time reached double digits, I needed a nap, like the way a nursing baby neeeeeeds it's mother's breast. I was sitting, and my eyes literally started to shut. I stopped what I was doing, and I went back to sleep. This was an epic get-up-early-and-don't-waste-the-day fail.

I eventually made it to work, and started being productive at around four in the afternoon. My friend Angela works the same hours as I, and she still gets up early. It can be done. When she suggested, on my laziest of days, that we have coffee in the morning I said, "YES!" Incentive. It's helpful.

I made it home after work, well rested, and turned off the lights before one. Before falling asleep, I set my alarm for seven-thirty, feeling hopeful. Beep beep beep...snooze....beep beep beep...snooze...and then, at 7:50...BEFORE EIGHT...I plunged myself from the sheets. Success!

Near unbearable heat and humidity were predicted by the weather man, so I slipped on my cut-off shorts, tank-top, and sandals...washed the night off of my face, and left the house for the metro.

So this is a long story, I know. I usually take the long way around to say the simplest things. So there you go. The simple thing I am trying to say is that this was the FIRST morning since being here that I have left the house before nine to get on the metro during the work week. I am a different kind of professional. My profession is the kind that makes their way to work when the rest of the world is still closing things up at the office. Because of this, I don't usually bump into the office crowd...at least not until seven or so, when they make their way into the restaurant, and I serve them dinner.

Walking along the sidewalk, I see the heals, the collars, and brief-cases, and the march. It's not a stroll. They are going somewhere, with intention; There is a fervor in each step. On most days most people ride the escalator all the way down, underground. I like moving, and walking, and so I am usually only one of a few walking down the escalator, passing the escalator standers to my right. This morning, however, the standers were in the minority. I follow my fellow walkers down the moving stairs, and make it to where the trains converge. Upon the platform, I feel like I have entered a cloud of pastel collars and black pencil skirts. I plop myself on to train with the day-time professionals, in my cut-offs, brown attire, and flip-flops, and I stand out as if there was a stamp on my forehead. I wish, in the moment, that I had the courage to just start dancing right there, in the middle of the train, as I try to keep my balance without holding onto the rail, as the train lists the tiniest bit.

We make our exits, and de-converge, as the collars and skirts make their way to their offices to make copies and send emails and add to the colorful necessary fabric of the the world's corporate political financial workforce, and I make my way to coffee, to sit in the sun and sip a latte over the colorful necessary fabric of budding friendship and conversation.

Morning, it's good to have you back.