the blue hour

Do you ever have one of those mornings that for whatever reason you rollover in bed, look at the clock that must be wrong because you haven't seen that hour in months without the aid of an alarm, and you are left wondering what woke you...was it a loud noise...one of the kids (probably just going to bed)...a thunder clap because you are aware of the raining outside your bedroom window

and you try to fall back asleep to grab a few more hours so that your day ahead won't be a hazy blur...but it is no use, you are fully awake and you might as well embrace it...start your day...stumble to the bathroom, throw something warm on, trip down the stairs without turning on lights...without waking the family...surprise the dogs who weren't expecting you for many, many hours...

put them out for their bathroom break with confused expressions on their furry little faces, continue the routine that is like a well rehearsed dance that luckily you can perform with little assistance from that thing called light...owning the phrase "I can do this in my sleep"...

somehow reassured that you are not alone in the world as you listen to the cars...so many cars...speed by...in such a hurry to get somewhere important...maybe work or school...poor beings who intentionally get up at this hour...your reverie is broken when the dogs pounce back in with an impressive amount of energy...shaking the water from their fur before you can throw the towel at them and immediately your house smells of wet dog and you know you might as well deal with it since it is April and it won't be the last time...and so, you return to the dance

turn on the computer that stabs at the darkness of the dawn, sit with a cup of warm coffee and check to see if there was some strange occurrence that pulled you from bed...upon finding nothing, you check on those areas of interest, like last decades morning paper... peruse a few blogs...read a few e-mails sent during the short night...check the forecast and pause to notice once again how the beautiful light around you is slowly gaining intensity with each passing minute

and realize you were meant to be awake for a time such as this?

(note: I believe William Faulkner holds the record for the longest run-on sentence in a published work...I quite possibly wrote the longest run-on question!)