In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Golden Hour.”
Ah, 6:00 AM. By the time the clock hits that magical vertical with the big hand on the twelve and the little hand on the six, I have already been up for a half hour. Just enough time to grab some orange juice (not a coffee drinker) and take the morning medicinal cocktail. The juice gives me just enough juice (see what I did there!) to begin the day with some deep breathing and a few moments to just enjoy the quiet and focus on the day. Once I have done that, I do a little bit of reading of articles and emails that have slipped into the old inbox overnight.
But it wasn’t like this before I moved seven months ago. Before then, you had to drag me out of bed by 6:30 AM. And some mornings, I didn’t make it in time, which meant a frantic rush to get myself together just so I could get to work by 8:00 AM. And that didn’t always happen either.
In fact, when I was a bit younger, it was nothing for me to be up very late almost every night. Until I was diagnosed with moderate sleep apnea, it was nothing for me to stay up late, only to attempt to drag myself out of bed in the morning to head into the office. Of course, there were those mornings where I would be catching myself feeling sleepy by 10:00 AM and having to pick my head up, hoping no one saw me get those few good seconds of catchup shuteye.
The NBA recently concluded its season, and it used to be no problem for me to attempt to stay up to watch playoff games-even the ones that started at 10:30 PM Eastern Time. And I would watch them until the conclusion, which usually ended around 1:00 AM. I am proud to say that this year, I never made it to the end of any weeknight (or Sunday night) playoff game. If it wasn’t over when I went to bed, I wasn’t watching the ending. I’d just find out how it ended in the morning with the ESPN alerts on my phone.
Another issue I used to have before I moved was that I had a television in the bedroom. So even if I got it in my head to go to bed at a “reasonable” hour, I could just turn on the bedroom television and watch whatever it was I just left behind in the living room. And when my daughter lived with me, I often watched television in the bedroom while she watched in the living room. So there was easy access to the bed-and television.
So no, 6:00 AM wasn’t always the golden hour. But things do change, and it feels more and more like the golden hour as I get used to better sleeping patterns, as well as admitting that I’m not the night owl I once was.