On the days I most want to sleep in, I find myself staring into the dark wondering what time it is. Falling back into a sound sleep rarely happens as mental list-making begins. This isn’t something I choose to do, but once it begins, I give in and quietly head downstairs to wait for sunrise.
The most pleasant aspect of being awake at 3 a.m. is the quiet; the refrigerator’s soft whirring and a clock ticking somewhere in the house magnify the silence. If I’m lucky, I will have remembered to bring my book downstairs, finally able to read more than the pathetic page or so I manage to get in each night before nodding off. Otherwise, I’m left to leaf through food magazines or cookbooks, looking for an excuse to organize a dinner to try a few new recipes.
Within a few hours, the room takes on a rosy glow as the rising sun creates a burst of purple, then magenta against the clouds over the mountains in the east. When it finally crests the skyline, brilliant light shoots through the kitchen window, creating a show of patterns against the wall that has me reaching for my camera.
The squeak of floorboards upstairs lets me know that someone else is awake and so I can begin my favorite breakfast. The aroma won’t quite attract attention that bacon does, but it will be a welcomed treat just the same.
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