Eric was always an early riser. He was usually up before the sun and my parents had to make a rule that he couldn’t wake them up to ask for a bath until after the sun was up. Yes, he always liked his baths too, and even in high school could be found doing his homework in the tub. When we were little I was always jealous that Eric was up before me. I used to accuse my Mom of taking him to a fair while I slept. Even then I knew he was up to something.
As an adult I have learned the value of getting up early. You really can get a lot more done. Although sometimes I am frustrated when I am ready to go and none of the stores are open yet. I still don’t like getting up early though. I envy the ease Eric had in waking and getting out of bed. Whenever I wake, no matter what time, I feel glued to the sheets. It’s just not an easy transition for me.
I think Eric got the gift of rising early from my Mom. She too is always up and moving and usually has several loads of laundry done before I’m ready to face the world. When she and my Dad were first married she would wake up early and putter around the kitchen banging the cabinet doors until he would wake up. I guess I get the sleep-in genes from him.
When we would visit my parents, Eric would get up and start emptying the dishwasher. The rattle of silverware and dishes was how my Mom knew he was up. It was nice for me too, because I could send the kids downstairs knowing Uncle Eric was probably up and would figure out the TV and anything else they needed. Not only was he up, he had energy! He would take the kids outside or wrestle with them, while I was watching the coffee maker hoping to make it brew a little faster.
As a kid I wished he would sleep in so I wouldn’t wonder what he and my Mom did in the mornings without me. As an adult, I wish I could get up early with grace and spirit the way he did. Even after he’s gone, I’m still measuring myself against him.
No comments:
Post a Comment