At 4 I'm wide awake, laying in bed listening to Sarah sleep, thanking my lucky stars she chooses me to love after everything I've put her through as I continue doing things that make her question her sanity.
Rising in the dark, I'd risen, showered, dressed, fed the animals and made coffee.
Pirate Radio out of Key West softly plays under the guitars hanging on the wall.
I think about calling Tommy Holland.
He's always up this early.
Sorry Tommy!
Just got the best invitation ever!
"DA!" our four year old Che calls from upstairs.
Grabbing her "Red Juice" and two Reese's' white chocolates, I make my way to her room like an old man in slow motion.
At his end my Dad lost the ability to successfully walk up or down stairs without falling and I hope like Hell he didn't pass it on.
"Da," Che says with a smile, "is there school today?"
I love this time.
Sitting up, blond hair askew from the pillow, sleepy eyes not fully awake cover a smile broadcasting love, I can't wait to discover what's the first thing on her mind every day.
"Not today," I answer, covering her with the blanket, turning on "A for Adley" while kissing my little girl.
"I lub you Da," she says before sticking the cup in her mouth and losing herself in waking up.
Slowly I make my way downstairs, grab more coffee and watch the light change in the trees.
I'm always the first one up at our house, being an early riser my whole life.
I love the beginning of the day.
Whatever happened yesterday, regardless of how bad it was, is eclipsed by the dawning of new possibilities and God's greatest gift ... the chance to start over every time the sun comes up.
These days I rise early so Sarah can sleep.
My wife carries the weight of the world on her shoulders raising four girls, overseeing the care of 40 Developmentally disabled people, is primary care giver to a man with stage 4 pancreatic cancer, has her own aches and pains from growing older and manages our family through the pandemic.
She is an amazing woman!
The least I can do, knowing full well I'm going to screw up a few things she's got planned, is let her sleep as long as she wants.
It's my own little way of telling her "I love you" ... before anything else happens in this day, I'm thinking of you and I hope this shows you a little.
Che's taken to relaxing in her bed, watching "Adley", munching white chocolate, sipping red juice and ... finally ... rushing to the Potty by herself as if all Hell's just broken loose.
She makes me laugh as I clutch my steaming cup downstairs, listening to acoustic Led Zep, watching the trees turn into muted shades of green.
My mind turns to oysters.
Laurel, our newly crowned Islands High School "Princess", is after me to take her out for oysters, which is hard to do when there's a pandemic and I'm at-risk for everything!
But I love Laurel and I love oysters too so we've got to make it happen.
It could be my last chance.
You never know.
"Don't do that!" Laurel scolds whenever I say things like this.
I believe laughter is the best medicine ... until it's not ... and it's easier if Sarah and the girl's shared my sense of humor (firmly rooted in Stephen Wright and Monty Python) ... but they don't ... so I crack jokes nobody in my family likes ... but I think they're funnier than Hell!
I'll talk to Bill Berry (not the former drummer for REM but the other one) or John O'Neil, two friends who've been with me for 40 years now, in no small part, because we share the same sense of humor.
Maybe I'll get around to that today.
First we have to figure our what Maddie, our 19 year old University of Georgia student, is doing for Thanksgiving, and if Cassidy, our 14 year old, will come out of her room at all until school resumes in December?
This week, Erica Cook my primary care coordinator, gave me "Five Wishes", an "easy-to-complete form that lets you say exactly what you what" when you die.
I haven't started it yet.
There's no hurry.
Five wishes have already been granted to me.
Sarah ... Maddie ... Laurel ... Cass ... and Che.
It's an abundance of fulfilled wishes.
PLUS ... there's Jeremy, Kristen and Chelsea ... the grandkids ... and a little gay dog.
I've got enough wishes come true.
I'll get around to five more in time.
Now is not the time.
