8 am, Sunday

img_9758A part of me rebels every time I have to get out of bed to walk the dog in the morning. I think about the extra 20 minutes I used to be able to sleep, before we got the dog. I think about the fact that I went to bed too late again the night before.  It’s that new blog I’m writing that is keeping me up! I think about the perfect way I have finally molded the bed around me, after a long night of tossing and turning. But I don’t fall back to sleep because my brain’s engine has started chugging me out of the cloud. Even if I gave myself permission to ignore the sunshine streaking in through the cracks, the train can only go forward.

Also, Joey has attuned himself to my every move in the morning. He springs to life at the first sound of me reaching for my phone to check the time. He reminds me of the cuckoo clocks my grandfather used to collect.  The clocks with measured little birds that sing full throttle their up and down bobble once the doors slap open.  Usually Joey jumps off the bed, paces around, and then jumps back up to lean against my chest and whine until I get up (or pet him).

Once I’m outside, however, the grumpiness usually dissolves quickly down into the sidewalks.  This morning, there was sunshine. It had been forever since I could see the sky between the clouds.  The poplars near my house seemed extra tall and magnificent in the yellow glow.  The streets were silent except for the birds.  As I turned the corner back toward my house, a light snowy rain started to fall. I could hardly see the little bits of white but could see faint trails drifting slowly through the sunshine. I was looking at ripples in the puddles when, all of a sudden, the wind smashed past me down the street like a bowling ball.  Then the rain returned, as it always does, to drench the Earth in green.

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7 thoughts on “8 am, Sunday

  1. The sun this morning was absolutely glorious! The images you paint in this piece are so vivid. A few of my favorite are: my brain’s engine has started chugging me out of the cloud, little birds that sing full throttle their up and down bobble, grumpiness dissolving into the sidewalk, and the wind smashing like a bowling ball.

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  2. I know that feeling of not wanting to get out with the dog – and then the pleasant surprised when you do. I also love the last walk of the night. We often hear our resident owl a block or two away – something we would miss if we didn’t have to walk that dog!

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  3. Growing up, we had no dog , and my mother mocked people who had to walk their dogs. I am thankful for having to get up and walk the dog. I;d be a total couch potato otherwise.

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  4. My dog is elderly now and has no desire to get out of her cozy bed in the morning to go out. Usually she’ll drag herself out of bed 30-40 minutes after I get up–but only to come hop in the chair behind me and go back to sleep. She has to be coaxed outside. But I have a cat who’s just that kind of attuned to my morning movements: when I shift a certain way, Zorro realizes I’m awake and comes up to lay down on my neck and purr and rub his whiskers on my face. It’s too adorable for me to get annoyed, though it does cost me at least half an hour of sleep every day. The pacing of this whole piece is lovely, and the details in that final paragraph are so strong. I really enjoyed this!

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