In the Early HoursPosted: November 24, 2010
I like getting up at 4:30, taking a cup of coffee upstairs to my office, sitting at the computer next to the tall ceiling-to-floor window. I pull up the blinds so that there’s “world” next to me — the street that cuts away and slips behind the island with oaks that I named Rhodes Island, the light pole tucked away in brown leaves and acorns, and a view to the end of Wimbledon Circle before an arc takes it out of sight. It’s a dark world that early, and no one else is up. I like it this quiet. I like to watch the paper man come. I can hear his car motor humming along fast and then he swings in front of my house and WHAP! the newspaper hits the aggregate and slides like a player trying to reach third before the ball gets there. Thuds follow him on down the street. I like watching the sky in the east, across the street from my window, take on a shade of blue and lighten. And while all this is happening, I am writing — right now a book proposal for a memoir — and I love this time because it is silent — only the sounds of my breathing and the computer breathing — and I am more creative in the early hours, and that’s what I am thankful for today. The early hours.