December 24, 2010.
I love the early morning.
Those who prefer sleeping in to almost anything else in this world probably have great difficulty understanding the above sentence. In fact, I would go so far as to suggest they would probably be questioning my sanity. On the other hand, those among the enormous number of readers of my blog who consider themselves "early birds", require no explanation whatsoever.
So for all of my readers who are still rubbing the sleep from their eyes at 4 pm, be patient with me as I describe the appeal of this strange concept called morning.
What comes to mind immediately is the peace and quiet. While my family and seemingly everyone else in the town slumbers, there is such an extraordinary feeling of calm. The old clock on the wall faithfully ticks away the seconds, (unless someone forgets to wind it). If our yellow lab is nearby, she is more than likely softly snoring away, visions of endless ball-chasing dancing in her head. (Subject for another blog, for sure: our dog would happily chase a ball until she dropped dead!) The Christmas tree glows in multi-color softness, the nativity scene expectantly awaits the arrival of the infant Jesus. We have a tradition in our family, as I'm sure many families do, of placing baby Jesus in the manger on Christmas morning. For some odd reason, I began displaying my creche on a cotton blanket of "snow", the rationale being I suppose, that it looked pretty. As our oldest Wise Guy pointed out when he reached the age of reason (you parents know exactly what I'm talking about, the age when they first become aware of the fact that they are much brighter than you) "there would not be snow in the desert, mom!" I stubbornly refused to replace my imitation snow with sand, until many years later. My Wise Guys were pretty much grown up by then, and when I suggested ditching the snow, they loudly protested and informed me that it had to be snow, because that's the way it's always been. Ah, traditions! Our boys were learning the beauty of family and tradition. Too bad their mother couldn't pass on the tradition of geographically-correct Christmas displays. Wow, I do digress sometimes, don't I?
Getting back to the peace. If I were brutally honest, I would have to admit that there is one very important element to my morning marveling. I am referring to coffee, and without it, I would probably see things a bit differently: "The Christmas tree is missing lights, someone's been messing with the Nativity pieces again (why are the three wise men upside down?), the dog is snoring loudly", well, you get the picture. The coffee adds that missing ingredient and brings some civility to my grumpy brain. Without that jolt of caffeine, I am not a happy camper. Addicted? Yes, I suppose I am. Worried? Not one bit.
If you're still with me, (early birds probably, snoozers, quite doubtful,) I do have a point to all of this rambling. No matter what may have happened the previous day, in the morning, the slate is wiped clean (young readers, go ask your parents what a slate is, I don't have time to explain, and the coffee is beginning to work it's charms on my poor bladder). The early part of the morning is a type of rebirth; dawn is in it's infancy, the sun has yet to stretch over the horizon, and plans have yet to come to fruition. So in the end, there is hope. And hope brings peace. In this crazy, stressed out, panic-driven world in which we live, peace is the one thing I can never get enough of.
Well, that and coffee.
Merry Christmas everyone!
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