You could call me a lot of things, but a ‘morning person’ would not fit the bill. I used to get in trouble when I would come down for breakfast before school because I wouldn’t say anything. Just kind of eat in silence, grunt a ‘thanks for breakfast’, and mosey on out the door. My parents would tell me, ‘Kelsey, don’t be such a grouch in the mornings,’ and I’d try to explain that I wasn’t grouchy, I just didn’t have anything to say and surely I made up with all my talking during the rest of the day to give me some speechless time in the morning.
Which reminds me, in Anne of Green Gables when Marilla gets on to Anne for talking too much, Anne responds, ‘I know I chatter on far too much… but if you only knew how many things I want to say and don’t, you’d give me some credit’. Oh it’s so true, you’d all be shocked if you knew how often I bit my tongue. For instance, the other day I was at work busily doing something and the boss man was at another desk busily doing something else. And I was trying so hard not to talk. I just had all these stories bobbing around in my mind, waiting to be told, but didn’t want to break the concentrated silence. So I told them all to myself as if I had an audience. And then when I told one story (to myself), I had to segue back to another story to properly explain the first and on and on. I must have let out an occasional snicker because the boss man finally looked over at me and said, ‘I don’t know how you ever get bored. You’re constantly entertaining yourself.’ I got a good laugh out of that one and another when I told my mom and all she said was, ‘yeah, you’re just like Tessa.’
But back to being a morning person. When I’m in California on vacation, I somehow pop out of bed, and its usually before Wesley even stirs. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that California is three hours ahead of Virgina. But there are other attractions too. When I somehow wake up at 7:30, I know that if I head downstairs, Mom, Dad and Dave are probably already up. Moms doing a little reading, sipping on her latte, Dad’s puttering around the house, most likely making another latte, Davey’s hair is crazy and he’s digging around for his school books and is already talking to me about mitochondria.
And it also helps that I can walk out the back door and be greeted by this sight.
My soul can’t help but be content.
And then I turn around and see that my dogs have followed me down to the beach and are now doing laps.
And I want to get up early the next day so I can be greeted by these same sights. So maybe, just perhaps, in certain settings, I am a morning person.
The only thing that causes me to doubt, is that I am only now posting this and it’s noon.