I have been getting up very early lately, and not hating it.
This is kind of revolutionary for me. Getting up early is arguably one of the things I hate most in the world. Especially when the weather is cold. MOST especially when it is still dark out when my alarm goes off.
Right now though, I just deal with it, and don’t think about it too much. I just kind of do it.
It’s pretty cold when I first get in the car, and the steering wheel hurts my hands for the first few miles, but the feeling of the car slowly warming up as the heat kicks in is delightful, and is something I can look forward to each morning.
I also have the radio to keep me company. I don’t usually like to listen to music in the early morning darkness. I prefer to hear voices, particularly if I think that those voices belong to people who also had to get up very early this morning. They usually sound like they’re all right with it, so maybe I can be, too.
When I listen to music during my morning commute, it makes me think about how the people who wrote the songs I’m hearing are probably still sleeping soundly in their warm beds. Or on giant piles of money. Or they’re dead. Or they’re awake, but they’ve been up for 36 hours and they’re drunk or high, depending on the station I’m listening to. These are not the kinds of thoughts I really want to entertain at 6:30am on my way to work on a Wednesday morning.
I know this will change once daylight savings time hits, but right now, the way I’ve timed it, I drive alongside a broad, shimmering lake each morning just as the sun begins to rise. I can see the orange sky reflected in the lake and think about how I’m almost at the end of my trip.
I feel grateful that I was able to find a job I enjoy during an extremely rough economic time, and that I tried moving somewhere new again, not knowing if I would like it or not, and that so far I like it. I feel fortunate that I was able to leave my job and relocate with no real plan for the future, and I didn’t go broke or die. I got to spend a few glorious weeks of sleeping in with my sweetie, and I’m grateful for that as well.
Could it be that counting my blessings is turning me into a morning person? Sometimes I don’t even know me anymore.
I Heard Tell 
Laura
Yay! Sounds like you’re in a good place.
donn
Congrats, Miss Molly! This is wonderful! I’ve noticed the older I get, the more I enjoy waking up early. For me, it’s been a sign of growing up, but I guess that theory ain’t too credible considering I feel like a 10-year-old trapped in a 31-year-old body most of the time. Ah well.
When I lived in L.A., I worked for a stock broker and had to be at my desk by 5 a.m. (the markets opened at 8 a.m. New York time). I’d drive to work blasting Bob Dylan and lamenting the fact that he was probably passed out with a bong on a pile of naked ladies while I was sleepily navigating the freeways of Los Angeles. I wanted to be where he was!
Minus the naked ladies, of course.