Since early childhood I have been a night owl, and sung the Irving Berlin song “Oh how I hate to get up in the morning”, to anyone who tried to argue me out of bed.  I can remember pleading with my mom, late at night, to ‘just let me come to a stopping place’ in whatever book I was glued to. 

Mom was a reader, too, so she’d smile and leave the light on.  When I wound up the last seven chapters of the book I’d tuck myself in- at four a.m.  All through High School, and into college, I was the one signing up for the midnight shift, or crawling into bed an hour before the sun came up.

But now, in the spirit of productivity, maturity, and parenthood, I’m trading my red-rimmed eyes for an alarm clock. 

This morning I got up at the unearthly hour of 6:30a.m.  That may not sound early to you, but for me it was a visit to a new planet.  So, here’s to early birds, pre-dawn haze, and a giant yawning start on the day.