Corralling My Morning Tangents
Morning came early again this morning. Following, as it tends to do, too late a night. I wake with the son, who, in turn, has risen with the sun as well. It is very circular.
I wake in many ways. Often with frustration, which is not something I would recommend. This morning I opened my eyes to a lethargic blanket of melancholy. It is something which I am prone to do. The irony is that I tend to enjoy mornings like this.
I find myself assessing the onset of fall and what it is I've accomplished since I assessed it last. I have made differences and I have stood still. Complexities of moving forward in a stagnant world. Progress is packaged in recycled boxes.
My oldest boy is still asleep. He's been creating his perfect dream for days now, and perhaps the comfort of early morning sleep has taken him there. My dream is that he takes me there too.
The youngest, like he does more often than naught, has returned to slumber. I cannot follow him there. This cloudy morning has filled me with a belly of coffee and a wandering mind. I may never sleep again.
I used to think that I was Linus. Perhaps I am just the blockhead, rising every morning only to watch him pull the ball away before I can kick it. I fall for it daily, hence the waking in frustration.
There is a tone set when you find yourself without fail on the receiving end of a 7 month olds punchline. It is humbling. It stirs within me this melancholy; and yet, it is oddly comforting.