Good Morning, Starshine

One of the most obvious and astounding changes in my behavior since Mom died is that I am waking up spontaneously much earlier than I used to. Like, 6 a.m. or before. In the dark and the cold(ish). Decades of waking at 8 or 9 or even later (having gotten spoiled by working for myself) are a thing of the past, apparently.

This morning I awoke at 6:05, and tossed restlessly for another 20 minutes before deciding it was a useless exercise. I wanted to get up. How bizarre is that?

How long before I’m drinking hot tea and listening to Morning Edition while I watch the sunrise from my back porch? Can journaling be far behind? (And did I really just use “journal” as a verb?)