I have never been a morning person. I do feel that it might be more pronounced now than when I was younger. I am not an early riser and I need an alarm. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I am ready to roll out of bed when it sounds and announces that I have a schedule to keep. If I had to place blame why I have an aversion to get moving in the morning I would suggest it might be that mentally I am ready for retirement. I have grown weary of trading my time for others daily and long for the day that it will truly be just that, my time.

Currently my commute takes a bit over half an hour. Where some might deal with the congestion of an interstate or metropolitan area, I cross a mountain. I have had to find a way to create a positive mindset that would have me arrive at work ready to meet the day. This is especially important when I find myself behind farm equipment or a tractor trailer that crosses the mountain at 20 mph. Those are the days that I must convince myself that going so slowly offers me a better chance to appreciate the surrounding scenery. In order to endure the trip, I have devised a morning routine. Although my plan is personal to me, I am not embarrassed to admit what I do to keep my mood in check. I have devised this over time and it was so subtle in its inception that I didn’t initially realize that I had established a ritual.

My success has come from recognizing what puts a smile on my face. Once established, those were the things I began to look for as I made my trek toward the mountain. It begins with my neighbor walking his dog. He has a joyful countenance about him and always crosses to the other side of the street when he sees me coming. I am sure he does that to maintain a modicum of safety although my driving has never endangered him. We both smile and wave. Toby, his golden retriever, wears a smile on one end and a constantly wagging tail on the other. Once beyond my neighborhood and jetting down the main drag, I encounter Richard the waver. He lives in a mobile home along the way and has a great deal of time on his hands as his disability has kept him out of the workforce. He can be found on his porch, waving to all the passing vehicles. If the weather is frigid he can be found wrapped in a Sherpa blanket with it fashioned as a hood over his head for warmth. Warmer weather has him sitting, sans shirt, wearing a pair of sunglasses. Days that I think it might be too dark for him to see me wave back, I will tap my horn.

Next I move beyond the human element and focus on all creatures great and small. It’s not enough to watch for animals but I have gone even further and bestowed various monikers upon them. I start with a horse that I have named appropriately, Old Paint. His dappled coat blends with the mottled wall of an outbuilding where he poses while soaking up the morning sun. Across the road I look for a tuxedo kitty in the picture window. One morning I noticed Kitty outside, pawing at a door. It had the frantic look of an indoor cat that accidently found itself outside. After witnessing the cat’s unfortunate plight it felt natural to turn an eye toward the house on my daily trip. It’s rare that I don’t find this same cat perched in the window with a curtain backdrop. Rounding out my journey toward the mountain is the appearance of Blackie. Lacking any originality, I’ve named a black cat that I see on the porch of a white farm house. There appears to be a feeding station set up for the various cats residing on the farm but Blackie is the cat that catches my eye. It also makes me smile as that was my father’s nickname and I wonder how he would feel having a cat named for him.

At this point you might be wondering why I unabashedly shared this somewhat absurd activity with you. Do I find going to work such a depressing event that I must distract myself? No, it’s not so terrible but truthfully I would rather wake up on my own and spend my time writing, reading or doing something else creative with my hands. Since employment is the reality, and I am grateful for the income, I like to take it up a notch, again to make the day start in a positive mode. This is my way of making that proverbial lemon aid out of lemons. It’s not a bad habit to have, seeing the good in any event that might seem challenging or unpleasant. Life is too short to wallow in the mire. I suggest that the practice of seeking joy will improve the quality of life. If you don’t believe me, start naming random animals and see what it does for your demeanor.