When I was working full time I had to awaken as early as five in the morning so that I would not be late for work. I had a standard routine for getting ready for my day and often dreamed of the moment when I would retire and no longer have to be somewhere by a certain hour. When that event finally came I learned that my inner clock had become so attuned to rising early that I was unable to sleep past six or six thirty. I resigned myself to using the time before  sunrise for enjoying the quiet in the house. 

I tiptoe through the dark to the kitchen where I prepare my tea and a small breakfast. While those things are brewing and cooking I open all of the blinds in the rooms to let in the slowly emerging light. Then I go upstairs and sit on a couch armed with my food, drink and the pills and vitamins that I regularly take. I’ve usually said some silent prayers while setting up for my morning “me time.” I’m all set for welcoming the new day.

I love the different word games in The New York Times. I go to Spelling Bee and find as many words as I can with the letters allowed for each day. So far I have yet to fail in finding enough words to earn the rating of Genius. I think of the vocabulary studies and spelling practices of my youth that introduced me to words that had at one time been foreign to me. I thank my English teacher for requiring me to read books and record new words and their meanings. I don’t think I would do as well without the education from my outstanding teachers or my father and mother who all understood the value of a strong vocabulary. 

My next challenge is the crossword puzzle. If I am hurried on a particular morning I stick with the Mini Crossword. I pride myself in knowing enough trivia to solve that one in three minutes or less. The larger puzzle takes a bit more time and effort on my part, sometimes leaving the task to rest my brain before coming back to finish it up.

Next  I turn to the game Wordle, for me it is actually more difficult than most of the others. It can be daunting to narrow down five letters from the alphabet to a single word, especially if there are dozens and dozens of possibilities with the same beginning or ending letters. There are some days when I narrowly escape running out of chances to solve the problem before it is too late. 

Connections is another fun option. I attempt to group the words according to some common feature. I probably enjoy this word game more that the others. I love to find the connections between people, events, and classifications. It’s something that I have always found myself doing. I like linking things with a common thread. I believe that understanding people and history is achieved with such linkages.

I end with a kind of strange word search called Strands that is a hodgepodge of letters hiding words with a common theme. Sometimes the hint for what I should be trying to find is somewhat vague or enigmatic. Other times it is a subject about which I know nothing. So I have to work really hard to determine the correct words and how they relate to each other. So far I have not been stumped but there are some mornings when I come very close to giving up.

After enjoying my word games for a bit less than an hour I go to Facebook to greet those celebrating a birthday and to advertise my blog for the day. Then I do what I love the most. I get serious about writing. I keep a log of possible topics and choose the one that calls to me on any given day. Sometimes I feel as though I am hitting a home run that will touch the hearts of anyone who takes the time to read my thoughts. On other days the words that I leave on the once blank space seem to be as mechanical and unmeaningful as those in the games that I play. I force myself to publish whatever comes to mind knowing that all too often my meanderings are trite and lacking in interest. Somehow I nonetheless seem to appeal to at least one person no matter what I post. 

By the time I have done all of these things the men in my household have come to life. They gather downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast but little conversation. My father-in-law is cheery and more than eager to talk but my husband needs a few more hours before he has any desire for chit chat. I learned long ago that he is like me in wanting to be alone in his morning thoughts until the cobwebs have been cleared from his head. He now often grabs his breakfast and brings it upstairs to escape the commentaries from his outgoing father.

It amazes me how two men from the same family can be so very different. I suppose that the way we each relate to mornings may be more related to nature than nurture, otherwise the two men would be gabbing away each day. I sometimes feel for my father-in-law for landing in a home where the people don’t do mornings very well, or least not like the extroverts that he is. 

I like my mornings. I actually look forward to them and no longer wish to sleep in and waste the lovely time of being alone with my thoughts. I slowly nudge my brain awake and feel frisky and ready to take on any challenges by the time the clock strikes eight. By then I have communed with God and the birds. I have been cheered by the sound of the children waiting for the bus. I have marveled at the power and beauty of words. It’s not a bad way to warm my internal engine. I think I’ll keep it up as long as I am able.