The Early Bird

My dad liked mornings. He went to the coffee shop before daylight. He always planned an early start during vacations. He got up and got moving, and he was perplexed by anyone who didn’t. He halfway expected the rest of the world to be up and productive when he was, and he seemed genuinely surprised when he found out someone wasn’t.

I can’t count the number of mornings I’d get a phone call between 6 and 6:30 a.m.

“This is Dad. Are you up?”

Most the time I lied and told him “Yes” because I’d heard his response to “Um, no, Dad, I am not up, because it is early!”:

“Well, you should be. The sun is up.”

I’m a morning person, too. As soon as I’m awake, I’m ready to start the day and be productive, but especially when my girls were young, I saw no reason to intentionally get up if everyone was sleeping and I could rest for a little while longer.

I don’t remember a single time he called early in the morning to tell me something life-changing. He usually had a silly joke ready to tell, or a “Did you hear?” fact about a local event or bit of news. He usually learned the tidbits on early morning radio or at the coffee shop, so of course, I hadn’t heard them yet. I was still in bed. Being lazy and unproductive. And comfortable.

Yet as annoying as those early calls were, I sort of enjoyed them. I might have groaned, but I usually also smiled. After all, my dad called me, and I liked that. So what if he interrupted my sleep? The phone conversations never lasted long, and I don’t go back to sleep once I’m awake in the morning, but in the the big scheme of things, it was fine. I got to start the day by talking to my dad.

Many times, interruptions are worthwhile.

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