early morning, late night
Some days, my job feels like a baby. Like yesterday, when I kicked off the week on the wrong side of 3:30 a.m. again, getting up to drive across two-thirds of the state to teach for a few hours in a tiny welcoming school. “This hurts,” I said when I got out of bed in what would usually be the middle of my night. But, like shots or piercings or a really bad commercial, only for a minute. I’m learning that once I’m up, I’m up – and on this trip, when the skies lit up a full hour earlier than they did last month on this drive, I learned to further love the time change and dawn’s early light.
I could have caught a ride with a colleague who drove down the day before. But that’s Sunday, a day I always want to protect from my job. I could have been spared a 3 a.m. alarm, but I would have missed so much more. Namely our last-chance-this-season trip to the zoo with a friend for everybody, including Jack -
I would have missed a nice family car ride, with time for making Christmas and to-do lists and watching big waves of little birds fly alongside us on the highway.
What I wouldn’t have missed is another night of family construction. Last night, while I was getting tired from a very long day, my husband was getting industrious after his, building stairs that we’ve been needing (but stranding Jack and me in the kitchen until nearly midnight). I fell asleep on the couch and woke sometime after 11, surprised that Jack was still upright and wearing safety goggles. Today, I’ve never been more glad for a day off – or for my toddler to sleep in until almost 9.
(I could use a migration. Couldn’t you?)