Nate’s Up



I get up so early.

Early, early, early….trying to carve out some quiet time….a time of self-reflection and caffeination….a time when I can sit and, for a moment, nothing is going on around me.

I’m hiding in my own house….silent as… a mouse…hiding….waiting for a sound and relieved when it’s just the noise of my own quiet breathing.

I’m a gatekeeper, too.

When I’m not up and holding my position as sentry outside our bedroom door, people can come in and wake us up.

If, for some reason, I’m still sleeping and enjoying a peaceful morning….and I haven’t assumed the “sentry” position yet, we can be surprised by some extra company.

The bed’s not so wide that we can handle a bunch of additional people.

It’s not restful to add to the mix.

It was so quiet for about 5 minutes this morning.


And, then…..I heard the slide of the barn doors I put up in the hall….and the padding of little feet in the darkness, and….Nate was in the room and on my lap and the day had begun.

The real day had begun and my quiet alone time evaporated and it was juice and Transformers and everything else we do to stay happy and out of Momma’s room.

Nate’s up.

I’ve done alone before.

I know how to be quiet….and alone.

I value quiet….I chase it now….gently, on bare feet in the darkness of morning, trying to avoid the squeaky tread on the stairs when I go down to the kitchen to make my coffee, never turning on a light because it might wake…..

I’ve been in places where no one would hear the tree falling in the lonely forest.

I’ve been so alone…..and I learned that “alone” is OK, too.

Nate’s up.

My quiet time is finished for the morning.

Five minutes in, my quiet time is gone.

I would not trade the chance to lose my quiet for all the tea in China.

Nate is up.

Quiet is sweet…but there are sweeter things in the world….noisy, early rising, Transformer toy blaring, sitting on my lap while I type….things people.

Good morning, Nate.

We’ll play this “Daddy’s up” game again tomorrow morning.

“quiet” Paul Simon




About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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