When I was a kid, I’m talking high school age now, I hated, HATED, mornings. I guess it was from having to get up and go to school. More likely I hated school which is why I didn’t do very well; no interest and thus I didn’t care. If I could change the past. . . .
These days, as I begin my last year of my forties, I find that I value mornings. I like the quiet before the rest of the house wakes up. It gives me time to think, to plan the rest of the day, and to enjoy the tranquility of silence.
In a lot of ways I’m fortunate that my current employment allows me to work in the evenings, leaving my mornings free. I say this, of course, and things will change, but, for now, this is the way things are.
What do I do with my mornings? Some days I write. Some days I watch Netflix, and others I just sit quietly or catch up on my reading. I know there will come a day when this isn’t possible, but, for now, I will enjoy my mornings.
Maybe it’s part of growing older, or just maturing, that such a shift in perspectives can offer. Maybe I always loved mornings, just hated that they were co-opted by school and not something I chose to do with my time.
Which leads me to think that the reason I don’t fit in so well in society is that I tend to live my life on my terms and don’t bow to societal pressure when it comes to what I’m “supposed to do.”
After all, by now at age 49, I’m supposed to own my own house, have kids, have a healthy bank account, and start my mid-life crisis next year by buying an expensive sports car, have an affair, and wonder where my hair went.
I don’t plan to have any of that. I’ll never own my own house, have kids, have a healthy bank account, or start my mid-life crisis, which precludes buying an expensive sports car or having an affair (I’m too lazy, honestly). I am wondering where my hair went, though. So, one out of six? If you have to fail at something. . . .
I’ve always loved silence.