Quiet

I generally hate waking up early.  Especially on the weekends.  The weekends are supposed to be for sleeping in, taking it easy, relaxing. Not for the dog wanting to wake up and go out a full hour or more earlier than he does during the week.  (I swear, he can tell time and does this on purpose.)  

But there is one thing that I appreciate about waking up early, which I don't get all that often.  

The quiet. 

On the weekends when we're at my dad's house (which is fairly regularly), I often get up and take the dog on a 15-30 minute walk up the block.  My dad's block is pretty quiet to begin with, but it's early enough that I only occasionally see or even hear a car.  The most life I see are the deer eating their early morning breakfast and trying to run away from us. The most noise that I hear are the birds waking up, the rooster at the farm down the street, and Bailey's nails on the road.

When we get back to my dad's house, it's usually before he, my sister, her boyfriend or Rob are up.  Which means that I can eat breakfast and drink my tea in peace.  I can read a magazine or just sit there and think.  Sometimes I lay on the couch and close my eyes for a little while, sometimes I don't.  But I rarely, if ever, turn on the TV or even many lights. 

It's sometimes for only less than an hour, but it's a nice bit of quiet time before anyone else wakes up.  When that happens, the TV and lights usually go on and the day gets started.

As someone who relishes and needs silence, as much as I hate getting up early on the weekend, I really crave this quiet time.  It's a way to unwind from the week that passed and gear up for the week ahead.  And sometimes, its the only real quiet time that I get during the week.