The Early Hours
I’ve always been a bit of an early riser. When I was young, I was usually up by 7 a.m., in time to catch the early cartoons like Transformers and GI Joe on the weekends. As long as I wasn’t forced awake, I was usually in a pretty good mood in the mornings.
As I’ve gotten older, mornings have changed for me. When I started with my current job, my role had me up at 3 a.m. for a 4 a.m. shift. I learned fast that I had to get up and move right away. There was no time to hit snooze on the alarm or to ease myself up. I had the coffee maker set on a schedule to be ready by the time my alarm went off, I had a quick cup of coffee, got dressed, and I’d be out the door within 25 minutes of waking up.
That era of my job has programmed me to be awake early pretty much every morning. This morning I was up at 5:30 a.m. I’ve grown to appreciate what this time of day offers. The stillness. The quiet. It’s the time of day when I can cross the main street next to me and grab a coffee without waiting for traffic. It’s just me and my solitude.
The last apartment I shared with my last girlfriend was a two-bedroom place with a den attached to the living room. She made the master bedroom into kind of a second living room for herself when she needed to be alone or didn’t want to watch the TV I was watching. The den became my little space to disappear into, and that space was all the way across the apartment from the bedrooms, so it was a place where I could do my thing without fear of waking anyone up.
The den had a window that faced east towards downtown Omaha (from about 15 miles away). I could see the red light on top of the Woodman Building flashing from there, as we were on the third floor of our building, which sat on top of a hill. This gave me a great view of the sunrise every morning, as I could see night gradually gain color, starting with faint blues that turned into oranges and reds. I was also facing in the direction of Eppley Airfield, the local major airport in the area, and I could see flights taking off, some of which would turn towards my place and head directly overhead. I would look up those flights to see where they were heading, most of which were on their way to Denver or Salt Lake City.
My ex-girlfriend was a late riser. If she had the day off, it wasn’t uncommon for her to start her day around 10 or 11 a.m. Even her work schedule catered to this most days. This left me to myself in the mornings, allowing me to gradually work myself up to dealing with people. This is when I had the time to think, to be introspective, to read, and to occasionally write. On my off days, I felt no pressure to do anything right away. I could make my coffee, watch the sun rise, and listen to a little music if I chose. I have an automation I use to this day that turns on a set of lights to about 45% and starts KEXP (an independent Seattle radio station that plays whatever it wants) on my HomePod speaker. In this space I was fully allowed to be myself, which I believe is the best form of freedom.
I still have this routine going in my new place. I’m usually urged awake by my cat Griffey, who wants his breakfast, first thing in the morning. Once he’s fed, I’m able to make some coffee and have a quiet morning doing whatever I want. Once Griffey is fed, he’s usually quiet and down for some lap cuddles. This is when I will brain dump in my journal, write, catch up on YouTube videos, and just generally move at my own pace. Sometimes, I just sit in complete silence and pet the cat.
I’ve grown to embrace the stillness of morning. It’s become my favorite time of day; it’s when I feel most in tune with myself. It’s when I’m fully my own best friend. I’ve learned to savor mornings. They’re why I can be the usually calm person I present to the world. I’m thankful for the early hours.
