Monday, April 6, 2009

Colors of the Morning


I wake up in some dark, grey moment of the morning; it is too early. The air is foggy, cold and stiff like my body – blurry and sluggish like my eyes. Maggie has only gotten up once during the night and her rooster’s crow is loud and abrasive, shattering the predawn hour. I make a vow in imaginary blood to go to bed earlier at the end of this day.

At 7:15 I usher Lyric into consciousness and the day turns red with Lyric’s grumpy disdain along with the streaking yellow of her cheerful clarity. I am too tired to make heads or tails of it, too focused on the 8:00 bus pickup down the block. It becomes a swirl of breakfast cereal, hair, glasses, backpack, jackets, hats, library books and lunch. If Maggie cooperates and doesn’t have a mess right before we head out the door, things flow pretty well.

Lyric boards the bus and fresh green color eddies in her wake. She waves excitedly through the window. I blow her a kiss and she silently makes the hand signs “I . . . love . . . you!” The bus surges away from the curb and the tired effort of the morning is quickly forgotten – my smile unavoidable as Maggie bounces happily in my arms. The sun is up and the world is coming alive – the urge to crawl back in bed subsides. It is a new day.

2 comments:

Shannon said...

Just now saw this new posting. It was fun to get a glimpse of your mornings. I wonder why mornings are like that. ;) The struggle to get up just doesn't get easier, does it?

Mom Wenger said...

Interesting to hear how your exciting day begins and. You make it sound so fun.