Morning night person owl.

One of my earliest memories is of lying in bed when my parents were still up. I remember thinking, thinking, thinking, holding on to the Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls my grandmother had made me, stroking the silk embroidery of their rag doll features. I could not--possibly would not, but it seemed more like it wasn't really possible to--sleep. From a very early age, I was a night owl.

Here are some worlds that are not organized for night owls:

1. school
2. childhood
3. work
4. young parenthood

And thus, and even so, I negotiated later bedtimes with my parents, and then when they were past policing my bedtime, I stayed up and stayed up and tried to be quiet. Headphones for my stereo. A little night light for reading. This--staying up all hours--has been going on, in other words, for ages.

I used to get up early to go to the dreaded early-morning LDS seminary. That was 6 a.m., the people, for religious formation. My God. I used to get up early for early morning classes in college, because, what, it was more virtuous? or something. Or maybe I just didn't know better. My first semester, I had a modern dance class at 7 a.m. three days a week. (leotard leotard leotard can't stop thinking it!) I used to get up early to swim and walk with a friend when my kids were young. Oh, I have arisen early in my day.

When I am left to my own devices, i.e., in the summer or on vacation or when I'm in Idaho, I go to bed around 1 a.m. and get up around 8-ish. It's not so bad, really--I do like the morning. I just don't like early morning, and I don't like to have to be ready to do anything in the morning, like work. Or talk. I'm ready for working and talking around 10. Ten-ish.

This semester, I am teaching a ten a.m. class. Quixotically, I get up super early on the days that class meets, so I can be to school by seven or so. If I have to be ready to talk by ten a.m., I need to get a good run at it. This means that three days a week I am generally up to see the dawn. Me, not a morning person, greeting the dawn with a silent scream.

One morning this week, I was up early enough to see this glowing, compensatory sunrise.