The Early Morning

Sunday morning I woke up too early. 

My eyes felt heavy.

A deep inhale invited fresh air into my lungs while I forced my eyes open to the morning in front of me.

The blurry glow of red Christmas lights above me reassured me that I was in my own bed. They've been strung around my room since last December and I continue to sleep under their glow most nights no matter what my electricity bill reflects. 

The blurriness of the lights was also proof of my success in taking my contacts out the night before, a small victory by my standards. 

Reaching over to my nightstand for my phone, the sight of a half-full bottle of cider reminded me of the tears that ran down my face no less than five hours before. 

The tears that had dried on my pillowcase by morning were for nothing in particular. Their presence represented a sincere collection of feelings I've been trying to understand as I navigate this world of mine.

Sadness wasn't the only theme of the event. There was happiness, honesty, presence and warmth in the pearls flowing from my eyes. The kind of emotional release that reminds me that I am a human. That I've made mistakes, that I am good, that I am kind, that I have a beautiful life in front of me if I respect it, believe it and nurture it.

With a quick splash of cold water on my face, I slinked back into bed and into the warm cocoon of covers that I'd say are just about the only exciting thing about being in a long distance relationship. 

The soft red glow still illuminating the room and the peek of sunlight through my bedroom window sent me back into several hours of sleep - the quality sleep that I can only describe as the nap you take after your Thanksgiving meal. 

When I woke up for the second time on Sunday, the haze had lifted like it always does.

I snuck away to my favorite coffee shop for some quality "me" time.  Suddenly, everything felt better.

The rest of the weekend was amazing, I just wanted to tell you about what happened when I woke up too early on a Sunday morning.