Words by Desiree Spinner, La Petite Peach
Photos by Brumley & Wells Photography
Sunrise has a different meaning in the more recent years since becoming a mother. As a young girl I was never a morning person, and I could sleep well into the afternoons without any thought. Light filling up my bedroom, meant pulling the blankets tighter over my face while groaning with disbelief that I had slept a full nights sleep. Early rising was for school days only and I followed this unspoken rule with ease and pleasure into adulthood.
After my first child was born, I would mourn the weekends I had spent sleeping in. My friends and I would laugh over a glass of wine about how we could barely be on time to a 10am class in college. Now most of us wake before our entire households to help ease our families into their days.
Mornings in New England can be dark and dreary in the winter, and cold and damp in the summer. Sunsets on the other had, were something I lived for. It was the start of the night, and the most exciting leisure of being young. I never enjoyed an omelet or cappuccinos over brunch with friends-we were all sleeping in on Sundays. And catching the sunrise was reserved for a fun night (you saw out of the corner of your sunglasses) walking home delirious and giggling with girl friends. I would daydream about getting up early and watching the sun come up, it was a mystery to me. But the thought of getting up early, on purpose never interested the teenage me.
My relationship with mornings starts to take a turn some where into my late 20’s… it began to feel natural. I started to wake with the sun and it was the most magical scene (how did I never think so before?). Sitting still, reading and having a fresh pressed coffee became something I looked forward to. It was the quietest time of day, before the bustle of the morning rush to get to school and work, and I found that I could use this time for me. I could sit anywhere I wanted, inside or outside and not be disturbed. Work would get wrapped up, emails would be answered and the house would smell clean and sweet with flowers from our front yard. Sleepy faces would rise from bed and stumble to the table for breakfast and I could watch my family eat and ask them about their day ahead.
Mornings became different. I didn’t see it as an obligation but rather something that I looked forward to. A pink-feathered sunrise and morning light peering through my bedroom window became my calm before the storm. Then over time and out of nowhere, much to my 19-year-old dismay, I became a morning person.