I write my blogs at 5 am. I. Am. A. Morning. Person. My best work is before 6 am. Stellar ideas come to me at 3 am, sometimes nudging me to write them down in my ongoing and very private journal. I’ve always been a morning person. Perhaps that stemmed from the childhood joy of running out into the morning stillness on the farm to find newborn lambs sheltered by a protective ewe. Or, to grab a morning hug from a farmer dad that left the house very, very early. The need to irrigate 40 acres of thirsty vines before teaching school all day. The front row beauty of amazing sunrises on the Virginia City deck with our 100 mile view. First in line to say “Good Morning” to VST. For all those and a million reasons more, I’m up way before dawn.
On this early morning, some thoughts stirred in my awakening brain. Things important and vital for my ultimate happiness. Being this morning creature, I miss a morning creature that stirs the way I do. Coffee. Breakfast. Morning Channel 2 News. Planning for the day. I’ll never be a night owl. I struggle being an evening crow. Morning person all the way. I miss eye-gooped, bad-breathed, dream reviews with VST. I miss our routine. He was always the first to say, “Good Mornin, Darlin” in his sexy VST voice, chipper and happy. Every morning. Quick to start the pellet stove on frozen VC mornings without a complaint. That man never woke up with pickle face or wrong-side-of-the-bed-grumpies. If I did, he patiently waited for me to wake up. Ready to plan the day, he would often remind me , “We’ll have enough time to sleep when we’re dead”. I miss my morning guy.
This week, I got through the first birthday in 33 years in which there wasn’t a card written out to Mrs. H staring me in the face when I first woke. For as much as I hate birthdays, we had that one heartfelt tradition that died with him. I won’t ever celebrate my birthday again, even in that small way. The absence of that silliest act set the tone of loneliness for the remainder of my wakeful hours. Goodbye to acknowledging such a pointless day in my life, too many years ago to matter to me anymore. Celebrating Christmas is enough for me.
Next, a tomorrow full of dreams need to fill my future. Not anything extravagant. Travels through sunrise beauty in dust-shrouded places like Mina and Luning. Sneeze-and-you-miss-it-places like Buford, Wyoming, population 1. Plans to stand in the awe inspiring presence of Mount Rushmore, or again watch the lifted tails of angry bison. I’m starving for simple travels over hundreds of miles of conversation and wide open spaces. I promise myself I won’t die yearning for this. Oliver may need to practice his duties as Service Dog Wingman, but, one way or another, I will be traveling again.
I thrive on spontaneity. The hardest thing in the world is waiting to do something. Anything. Winterpast is a wonderful resting spot that is my beloved home. Now, I need to find a new rhythm of here and gone. VST and I had that. Always a trip planned. Miles on the road, the journey being the reason. There is romance supreme in heading out while looking over the horizon in the same direction. Sharing different visions, a mural of ideas is created. Projects we wanted to complete or destinations for future trips discussed. VST was my perfect travel partner. My heart longs for that again. Like trying to read a map and drive at the same time, traveling solo through life is so damn hard. Dangerous, too. One wrong turn and you can be upside down in a ditch.
This morning’s epiphanies made my heart smile. Like feeling something painful in your shoe, and discovering the tiniest fox tail embedded in your sock . You knew something hurt, until you found the simplest answer. Such obvious stressful points I can’t overlook.
1. I will never be a night owl. Not even an evening crow. Morning person all the way.
2. Hold those birthday candles.
3. Need to get on with it and plan my first adventure for 2021.
Those are my AHA’s. What are yours? Start with the small ones, the bigger ones will reveal themselves along the way.