Jul 26, 2010
I never imagined a time when I would consider myself a "morning person." Yet here I am, wide awake, having already finished a good chunk of a book before 8am. It seems that maybe "morning person," is the wrong phrase to coin here. Particularly because most assume such people to be social in their morning content. Me, however, oh, I savor the solitude that early mornings almost regularly offer. I recently, as in last night, realized the dire need for this specific time. As I type, my arms bearing the AC, I am sharing a hotel room with six people. SIX. And while I adore each of the aforementioned six, something in me snapped last night. I was anxious, irritable, and overall, a word my momma taught me not to say in public. It wasn't until everyone was finally settled in their makeshift bed that I figured out the catalyst for my irritability and more importantly, the cure. Quiet. Just a few breaths of silence without and additional thought or complaint. Upon this realization, I began to appreciate late nights without sleep and mornings when my body gave me no other choice but to be awake. It's as if my mind, God, what-have-you, was saying, "Cara, here. Have these quiet moments to yourself. Embrace and appreciate them." Who knew this gift not only existed, but was necessary for my survival?