Two ways to wake up

Early morning, Oakland Beach looking toward Warwick Neck.

Weekday
Wake up. The beep beep beep that has intruded into my dream comes with me as I pass from sleep to consciousness. Michael hits the off button. Silence.

It is dark. Totally dark. Think about closing eyes again. Do it. Right back in the dream for another 20 minutes.

Or: Remember that Kevin needs to get to school early today. Wisps of the dream linger like smoke as I swing my legs off the bed, put both feet on the floor, and – joints crackling festively – rise. The clock reads 6:20.

Down the hall stiffly (c'mon, knees), into the bathroom, lights OMG! Mirror: Behold a puffy version of my face, blinking. Open cabinet, remove thyroid pill from bottle, swig with large cup of warmish water. Mom's advice: "Always drink a cup of warm water when you first get up. Cold water is a shock to the system."

Now I'm awake. In a half hour we'll be on the road, just another four-wheeled molecule in the Warwick-to-Providence highway stream.

Weekend
Wake up. It is dark, totally dark. There is no beep, beep. Just the sound of Daisy softly snoring in her dog bed. Too early.

Close eyes. Slip back into dream. Weird dream.

Wake up. It's light out now. Michael is gone from our bed. Need to pee; too lazy. Roll over, clasp covers under my chin. Slip back into sleep. There's that dream again.

Wake up. What time is it? Look at clock. It's 8:30 a.m. Or it's 9 a.m. Or, rarely and shockingly (most often on overcast mornings), 9:50 a.m. The dog is on the bed, curled tight against my shins. Man, I need to pee!

Get up. Stretch. Do what must be done.


How do you wake up?