I rise suddenly from sleep, my mind whirling a thousand klicks a second. The vestiges of my dreams cling to me like a vapor — but only for a moment. A moment and it is gone, a breath puffed away in less than a heartbeat. The only thing I’m left with is the sense of stress from a debate gone wrong, of anger, disgust. I roll over, adjusting the hose to my CPAP, and try to go back to sleep, but after half an hour without success I give it up as a lost cause. I’m awake now and there is no way sleep is returning this night.
I grab my phone from the night stand and check the time. I know it’s still early. I can feel it in my body, in the electric tingle of my skin that tells me I’ve still had too little sleep. Sure enough, it’s all of 3am, and I’m thankful that I opted, for once, to go to bed early last night. At least I managed somewhere between 4.5 and 5 hours of sleep. It’s going to have to be enough for today. I’ve survived on less.
I roll out of bed. My morning ritual is going to require some modification. I have an extra couple of hours I’m not accustomed to. I don’t have to wake the kids for school for another two hours. I dress, make my bed (part of my routine to maintain order in my life), comb my hair, and grab a protein bar from the cupboard. I’m not ready for coffee yet; I’ll wait until the kids are up to brew a mug.
Instead, I settle onto the couch and fire up my Xbox. I have some new activities in Destiny I’m working on and this is as good a time as any to while away these empty hours shooting hostile aliens. I turn on my therapy light because this is also a good time to get that done. I’m going to be out for the duration of the morning, anyway, so this is the best opportunity I’m going to have all day to recharge my batteries, metaphorically speaking.
My game launches, and so does my character. I drop right into combat and spend the next little while racing around the solar system chasing quests and completing objectives. Behind me, I hear thumps on the wall. My son is restless in his own sleep, and I smile. I love my overnight visits with my kids. The three of us have settled in a routine together now that I have my own place, and it makes me happy to hear them moving about, even in their sleep, knowing they’re close by.
I check the time and realize it’s just about time to wake them. I finish up my current objective and shut down the console. There’s still more to do, but it will wait until later. It’s time to officially start the day. I stretch. Sitting in one position for so long has left me stiff.
A moment later I swing open the door to the kids’ room and flip on the light. “Good morning, my loves,” I say. “Time to rise and shine.” And so begins a new day.
