“You do more in a morning than some people do in two weeks,” a graphologist once told me, having analyzed my handwriting.
It was not news to me. I was raised to be a morning person. Waking before the rest of the family and getting ahead of the day was my way. Until I got sick, that is. Then everything changed. Mornings became impossible and nights sleepless.
The addition of dogs to our family has forced me to be a morning person again. Eager yips wake me before seven, and the demands are real. My body is having a hard time complying. I am ready to nap within an hour of waking, and I need several rests throughout the day. My mind, however; is liking the shift.
I have plans for mornings, like to catch a sunset, or write for an hour before having breakfast, or sketching, or….
What do mornings mean to you? Create a post – be it poem, prose, photography, or other – and drop a link in the comments below, or try a pingback (they are unreliable lately).
Look forward to your responses.