6am is my favorite time of day.
It is the perfect definition of C O Z Y.
Sometimes 6am is just before I go to bed — after cramming work all night — and although it is a beautiful reward, I miss it. By then, all I can appreciate is finally getting to sleep.
Often, it’s serendipitous, glimpsed at only in foggy consciousness — when I try to wake up to my alarm clock, but sleep just drags me back to oblivion. And I cannot honor it the way it should be.
But sometimes, it’s days like this, when I’m fully awake, and grateful to have this peace.
6am is when the birds start chirping, and roosters crow in the distance. The sun peeks through the clouds and there’s just light, and nothing is bright. The air is cool. [This is the only time that the air is cool in the Philippines, where the two seasons are hot and hotter. (Except, of course, when there’s a typhoon. And that’s beside the point.) It is a welcome reprieve from the tossing and turning, finding the best position to get maximum wind from the fan.] So I gratefully pull my blanket and snuggle up within its warmth. This, for me, is the best way to sleep, with the cold chilling your bones and prickling your skin and yet heat seeps into your cocoon. Glorious!
As I celebrate this ungodly hour, I realize that all this post is about, is trying to motivate myself (cajole more like it) into waking up earlier, and being excited about it. But isn’t it so ironic, that the morning I love so much is still for sleeping? I’m sure people love it for holding a steaming mug of coffee between their hands too — but I just don’t buy it. So we’ll see — is it worth it: to give up precious sleep for this short window when morning is so wonderful?