I Am Not A Morning Person

I never have been a morning person. I have lots of family members who bounce out of bed at the crack of dawn and hit the ground running. I did not inherit that gene. Nor did I marry someone with that sort of nature. To the contrary, Chuck is an absolute night owl. But it turns out a lot of interesting and beautiful things happen in the wee hours of the day. I woke up at 5:00 this morning and noticed a warm glow spilling in between the drapes. Curious, I peeked out. Sunrise, I thought. I’ve heard of those. I must have been intoxicated by the salt air or hypnotized by the rosy sky, because I shrugged on a sweatshirt over my nightclothes, picked up the camera and quietly went out on the balcony. The bay was already bustling. Seagulls were flying overhead; crows were squawking. A lobster boat motored by; the men on board shouting their conversation over the pulsing diesel engine. Another hotel guest was out on her balcony, camera in hand.

I stayed outside for about a half an hour. I may have missed the big reveal of the sun climbing up over The Porcupine Islands, but I enjoyed every moment. Perhaps, after half a century, I should reevaluate the whole early morning thing...