5 A.M.

I harshly and suddenly woke from a dream at 5 AM by a thunderclap signaling the oncoming apocalypse. This wasn’t simply God bowling his strikes, rather the Almighty had decided to completely demolish the entire bowling alley with pins, balls and vending machines complete with unwinable trinkets that truly have no place in Paradise still inside. This happened directly above my house.

By the time my breathing got under control and the coolness of my skin warmed with the beaded perspiration, the awareness that the end of the world was not upon us just yet slowly rolled to the surface of my consciousness like a wobbly gutter ball moves with lackadaisical determination towards its final destination. It was still 5 AM. Plus eight minutes. I would be pounding the clock/radio silent in another 90 minutes. It would ignore my pleads, beckoning me to arise and prepare for an 8 AM conference call to Toronto. But seeing as how I am presently awake, and the rain showering on my roof is certainly not contributing to the pleasant return to sleep, I move forward.

My legs swing off the mattress and I smile inwardly with the smallest sense of satisfaction that I have beaten the radio, at least for this morning. Its commands will go unheeded today; the impotence of its digital display no longer necessary.

The remainder of the early morning passes without much significance. Shower. Coffee. A weary treading of footfalls. Sometime in-between, the rain stops and the sun does its best to try to break through the cloud cover. What rays that do penetrate accentuate the greenness that abounds in the aftermath of a spring storm. The azure leaves on the hickory tree stand out vividly against the slowly-breaking grey sky.

But I have no time for beauty. I cannot allow my mind to drift before the caffeine releases the racehorses of my synapses from their starting gate. The wetness in the atmosphere hangs equally heavy with the thoughts of the day before me. Toronto this morning, California at lunch where the day’s sun is still new, New York this afternoon. My company’s phone bill lights up like a North American passport. Most use the stillness of the morning to begin their day with calm reflection. I use this break to debate calling in sick, ignoring all responsibilities that have become accustomed to this adult life.

The sky is quiet now. God’s obviously taking a coffee break reading the Washington Post with a Boston crème because He obviously doesn’t need to watch the calories. And with the end-of-the-world obviously on hold, I boot up my iMac and get to work because, after all, there’s much to do.


As Always,
theJOE