Sunday Mornings

Sunday Mornings

I hear the birdsong outside my bedroom window as I roll over onto my back, stretch, and reach to the bedside stand to grab my cell to check the time.

It’s 4:45 a.m. Daylight is just breaking.

I notice no calls or messages as I fumble with the phone and wonder for the umpteenth time why I cant seem to “sleep in” on a morning which I have no particular need to get up. I lay there musing for a few minutes, listening to the world outside…the nocturnal world settling down to slumber, while the day-shift is coming alive for another day.

All my windows are open since it is finally summer here in Maine, and I have an unobstructed front row seat to this ritual that has become perhaps my favorite part of each day. I get out of bed and peer out the window over my bed to gaze at the large field and the woods beyond that lies to the west and to the backside of my little place located in the heart of the city.

I chuckle as I find it amazing that it is less than a mile from the major shopping centers located on Stillwater Avenue to the east, and on Broadway located to north, from where I live, located in a little park, tucked back into the woods off Essex Street.

It is almost like living back in Waldo-out in the country. For this, I am grateful. Those farm-boy roots seem to run deep and I love the early morning peace and quiet with only the occasional sounds of early morning distant traffic intruding on this bucolic trance as I look for wildlife in the field. Seeing none this morning, I stretch again and slip on my moc’s and shuffle out to the kitchen to make coffee.

Growing up on the farm left no time to “sleep in”, so getting up at this time of day has become ingrained. Oh, I wanted to, when I was young. I would drag myself out of bed back then, muttering under my breath about the insane hour, and resign myself to the simple fact of life on the farm. You get up with the chickens, and if you’re wise, you’ll go to bed with them too.

These days, I find myself looking forward to this time of day, because it is the time of day that is all mine. No intrusions, no incessant phone calls from clients or staff, no calls or texts from my boss with this problem or that to fix, no chickens to feed either. I find myself absorbing the quiet and peaceful aura of another day coming to be, and I feel almost voyeuristic while I watch this transpire.

I sip my coffee and reflect on life, watch the morning news, scroll through FaceBook to see how my friends and family are dealing with this thing called life, and I watch. I watch my neighbors as one by one, they come to life for another day. Some of them walk, or walk their dogs, others sit on their decks and have their morning coffee, while others take advantage of this quiet peaceful Sunday morning, by “sleeping in”.

In a couple of hours, all of this will disappear as the machinations of life will pop this peaceful little bubble and life will go on all around me.

For the next hour or so, the day is mine, and I am glad I didn’t roll over and “sleep in”. Maybe I’ll take a nap this afternoon instead.

Enjoy your Sunday folks.

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