The curtains have parted just enough to see darkness.  It’s time to rollover to the other side, give my achy shoulder a rest, cover my head with a pillow, and try to fall back asleep.  Some mornings this method works.  Sometimes, it’s useless, my mind sprinting with thoughts better left unsaid.  But I’ve promised myself to be positive this season, starting each day with at least three thoughts of gratitude before getting out of bed.  I’m grateful for my faith, keeping me focused on the most important things in life.  I’m grateful for my job, getting to do something I’m passionate about today.  I’m grateful for my health, especially today, my rest day.  I wonder who opens the gym on Thursdays, Jill or Dan?  I guess the mind wants to sprint this morning, so let’s get up and get the coffee brewing.  

The street lamps shine through my front windows, casting a strong enough glow to wander from the bedroom to the kitchen without turning on any lights.  I forced myself to set up the coffee maker before bed last night, but never set the timer.  I don’t want to jinx the elusive chance of sleeping in.  Push the brew button, bold setting, five minutes until warm satisfaction.  

I like to write before reading, or more importantly, before turning on the phone, television, or computer.  Clear-headedness and creativity come in the still silence of my living room.  Poem?  Short story?  Quick blog?  I pick up the pen, put it to paper, and let my thoughts take over.  This is where the sprinting part of my mind actually helps.  The less I think about what needs to be written, the more freely narrative flows in just the right way.  I like to get the main points on paper, cursive style writing is fastest, and then I’ll stop to think.  I’m not foolish enough to believe that all writing is better with paper and pen, with the time it takes to transfer everything over to the computer, and the inadvertent edits made in that translation.  So, I crack open the laptop and really let the words fly, after my mind has finished the initial free-flow and is ready to rush words onto the screen.  

Somedays, the coffee waits for thirty minutes or more as I wrestle with the keyboard.  Today, I’m ready when the brewing is done.  My thoughts and words were on the gym, the interesting conversations we have in the wee hours of the morning.  I live for my time counseling teens everyday at school.  But listening to adults in their micro-breaks between sets is often more complex.  Probably because I’m the first human they’ve talked to that day, but maybe because I’m the only person they’ll really talk to that day.  For the regular gym rats, the people I interact with at least a few times each week, the stories feel surprisingly honest.  D.J. wants to be heard, not just seen for his hulking physique.  Dan wants to finish college debt-free, but I’m not sure he loves computer science.  Jill wants to inspire the world, and she holds the early morning desk job in order to create all afternoon.  And there’s so many more.  I simply listen.  Truly listen.  I don’t need to be heard, because sometimes, that would only hold us back, hurting us both.