It was 5:45 a.m. on a Saturday morning and I heard Davis' alarm going off in the darkness.  He turned it off and shot up out of the bed....all alert and ready to start a new day.  He headed straight for the shower without a moment's hesitation.  I don't ever remember him using his snooze button.  Ever.  No, it's as new and as shiny as the day he bought it, while mine is worn down to a "ZE" button now.  Snooze buttons are, obviously, for people who aren't nearly as excited about starting their day as he always is. 

As I readjusted myself for another 3 or 4 hours of sleep, I turned over, stretched out onto his side of the bed, reached for his pillow, and wondered what would possess a person to get up so early on their day off.   But, I couldn't worry about that right then.  I had more sleeping to do. 

He always dresses, fixes his coffee, eats his breakfast, feeds the dog, reads his Bible, and finds something that he can start working on.  It doesn't have to be anything pressing or major.....just something to do.  Washing cars, vacuuming cars, cleaning the garage, raking, changing oil, finishing reports for work. 

By 7:30, I'm sure he's thinking to himself, "Is she going to sleep the day away? She's missing everything......the sunrise, the birds singing, the morning fog, the glistening dew, the peace and quiet.  How can anyone sleep through this most wonderful time of the day?"  At 9:00, after he's been up almost 4 hours, I'm sure he starts to contemplate if he should go check me for a pulse.

He's learned, though, to leave me alone and let my sleep cycle run its course.....as foreign as it seems to him.  He knows to "Let her sleep for when she wakes she will move mountains".  Well, ok...maybe not move mountains, but I'll get some stuff done. 

Davis is that guy who likes to go into work early so he can get off early.  He's the one who asks the receptionist for the first appointment of the morning.  He's the one who wishes sunrise services weren't just for Easter.  He finds out what time businesses open, so he can be there first thing.  He's the morning exerciser.  He's the parent who gets the children anywhere they need to be before 8:00 a.m.  He's in charge of letting in the dishwasher repairman, who can only come at 7:00.  He's got early morning dog duty and will cut off my alarm if he sees the school has a snow day. He was always good with the 5 or 6:00 a.m. baby bottles.   

He feels alive in the morning.            

I've always been enamored with that about him.....even intrigued.           

I finally emerged from the bedroom around 9:30 and stumbled past his office and into the kitchen.  He greeted me with a cheerful, "good morning".  "Uuuuuuuhhhh", I replied....wondering how people can be so happy in the morning.  My eyes were out of focus and my head was feeling achy...throbbing even....from the coma from which I'd just awakened.  I got something to drink and sat down in my chair.  I have to sit for 30 minutes in complete silence, staring off into the distance, responding to questioning with nonsensical grunts while I await the blood flow to return to my brain.  After the 30 minute waiting period was over, I mustered up enough equilibrium to stand although still wobbly and felt like I was in a thick fog......except for the fact that the morning fog had burned off, at least, a couple of hours earlier.  

I'm the one who wonders why school and church have to start so early......I mean, we've got all day.  I'm the one who requests the late morning or early afternoon appointments.  I only ask what time businesses close, because I certainly won't be there when they open.  I've only seen a handful of sunrises.....well, maybe not even that many, but I'm fine with that.  I'd rather go in a later and work a little later.  I prefer to exercise at night.  I was always good with the nighttime feedings.  I'm that person who sleeps as late as possible....not allowing for one extra minute in the morning.  But, if there are kids to wait up for, I'm on duty.  If there are severe weather alerts to listen for at night, I'm on it.  If someone is sick in the wee hours, I've got that.  The dog needs to go out in the night, not a problem.      

Later that day....

Davis started yawning and talking about how late it was getting around 9:00 p.m..  I thought, "Yeah, in Rio de Janeiro, maybe".  At 9:30, he began his nightly rituals with the goal being to be in bed by 10..... occasionally even disappearing in the middle of watching a ballgame or family gatherings that are running long.  But, it's just as well as about that time... he starts to contribute less and less to conversations and begins to stare off into space.  He gets anxious if he's not going to be home at a decent hour just thinking about how terrible he'll feel the next day.  He knows that, even if he turns in late, his internal alarm will sound just as loudly at the same time the next morning.

He turned in but I was just starting to feel the best I'd felt all day.  I wondered how anyone could go to sleep so early.....something I haven't done since 6th grade.   Ok.....maybe if I had a really bad case of the flu, I could sleep at that hour.  I think, "I hate he's missing the best time of day.....the moon rising, the frogs and crickets, the late night TV, the stars shining, the peace and quiet."  There were 2 or 3 more hours still on the table as far as I was concerned and, oh, the possibilities.  I could write, do laundry, listen to music, watch Netflix, read my Bible, plan tomorrow's dinner, iron, bake.  So much productivity to be had at the end of the day. 

I just feel alive at night.       

He's always been enamored with that about me.....even intrigued.

Sometimes, days and nights get mixed up. 

Good Morning America meets The Tonight Show and they fall in love.     

Yes, sometimes, a morning bird marries a opossum.

And it works quite nicely, I must say. 


Night, night, y'all.