Before the morning light today, the house seemed to spring to life.
My wife is in the habit of getting up around three. At five, my son-in-law rose as usual for work. Somewhere in there, my daughter, who had been out drinking with the girls last night, was up paying the penalty for that pastime. I ratted around until five-thirty, then joined the already-awakened crowd. At six, still in a darkness accentuated by the street lamp, the woman who delivers the newspaper laid the day's offering on the front stoop. Only my sons slept on.
Strange how the day begins before the light or even open eyes adorn it.
A wake-up call, I imagine.