up and at 'em

i've been awake since 4:45, can't sleep past the feeling of I'VE GOT SHIT TO DO.

the birds are waking me up, making me think of my dad. morning songs are one of his favorite sounds in the world. its nice to think i will be with him soon, and smelling his coffee brewing.

wait a minute, i think he just brews pots in the winter. these days he just goes to honeydew donuts and gets iced coffee while he talks with the regulars on main street.

anyway.

thinking ahead, but i should be thinking, focusing on what's in front of me. like the food that needs to be organized. like the shower i need to have. like cleaning my house.

but one more thing before i really start this day.

waking up this early always, always reminds me of when i was in fourth grade, and my dad took me on a birding trip to point pelee national park. its somewhere in canada; i think its the southernmost tip, actually. and it has fantastic birdwatching, so my dad planned a trip with his friends back when we lived in indiana, and i got to go with him. it was very special.

i had to wake up in the dead of night, and i think it was fall or winter--cold either way--and i remember sitting at the kitchen table, much like i'm doing right now, hunched over some food that my mom made for me and trying to get my stomach to be ready to eat breakfast when all i wanted to do was to keep sleeping. except that the excitement was too much for me, and all i wanted to do was to get on the road.

and the adults were in the front seats and i was in the hatchback ("backety-back") of a white station wagon, bundled up with blankets and no seatbelt and a box of new granola bars. i ate way too many of these, and felt sick along the way. that i remember clearly.

also, i don't think they make the aforementioned granola bars anymore. they were discontinued soon afterwards. for good reason.

i remember the hotel room shared with my dad, and walking out to the point with heavy binoculars around my neck, hoping to look really special and like i knew what i was doing.

"who is that young prodigy of a birdwatcher there? that is one special child. . ." this is the kind of comment that i wished to hear. even then, always searching for validation of some kind.

and now i'm packing my own car, granola bars for my own kids, off to drive our asses off into the sunrise.

time flies, and then comes back to slap you across the face gently in the early morning light, to help wake you up just a little bit more.