He Is Morning

My husband is a morning person. He's also a fairly jolly guy, not prone to moodiness or depression, and generally a happy fellow.

He has a sunny disposition and if things bother him, he doesn't show it. He doesn't mope around or talk about the things that are on his mind. He goes about his business, doing whatever it is he has set up for the day.

He comes in at lunch time for a meal and a kiss. I fix him a sandwich, usually, because that is all he wants. Some days we do eat salads, because we're adults and are supposed to be eating healthy things like that.

Before he retired, he used to get up around 5 a.m. almost every day.

When we married, those many decades ago, I determined I was going to be the good, dutiful wife and wake up with him and fix him breakfast before he went off to the fire station or to help his dad on the farm.

This lasted about two weeks.

One morning, I woke to fix him breakfast and stumbled into the kitchen, all bleary eyed and barely awake. I got a dozen eggs out of the refrigerator and . . . splat! I dropped them, and they broke all over the floor.

I took one look at them and burst into tears. He laughed and told me to go back to bed. "You don't have to fix my breakfast," he said.

And from then on, I did not. Nor did I get out of bed at 5 a.m. He would wake me before he left to offer me a goodbye kiss, and generally then I would wake up and rise from my bed. He didn't do any other things that I could see aside from fix himself breakfast and leave the dishes for me to clean up - but he doesn't like a lot of breakfast, anyway, and these days he is happy with a piece a toast or a few sausage links, or something like that, for breakfast.

He has taken to fixing us breakfast on Saturday and Sunday in the last year, something that surprised me. He fries a good egg. He also has bacon.

He's a morning person, my guy is.

My Morning Person