As much as I've always loved going to sleep, I've always loved waking up in the morning of a good nights rest. I was never the kind of girl who could sleep in, which made slumber parties a special form of torture. Perhaps that is where my love of reading really came from. You can wake up and read quietly until others wake up, which is more fun then just laying their bored.

But, being awake in the morning, by myself, is now a special treat. It doesn't happen so much with Joe and more because we usually get up at the same time which I'm fine with. I think it makes my private vacation mornings all the more special. I've spent the last hour or so, on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket and sitting on a lounge chair, reading a book and enjoying the sound of the waves. The sun is slowly making its way around the building and a strip of me is bathed in light. Slowly more and more people are venturing to the beach.

At first it was only the hardcore runners, which slowly turned to couples walking and enjoying the morning breeze. Now, people are lugging their beach bags and umbrellas, setting up their chairs and applying their sunscreen. Preparing for a relaxed day where the water kisses their toes and the sun warms their face.

I get in my own head when I'm alone in the morning. There is nothing to interrupt my thoughts or pull me from myself. I sit in my thoughts and I bathe in them, roll them around in my brain and just enjoy them. With everything there is to interrupt a train of thought; tv, computers, radio, people; it is truly nice to be lost in my own head. Most of the time I'm thinking of the next thing I'm going to write, or that scene that just won't happen correctly, but sometimes I reflect on my life and what is happening in it. The things I never expected to happen, the words I never expected to hear or the ways in which changing myself effects other people, for the good or the bad.

Reading in the morning takes on a whole new speed. Instead of rushing to finish the next page/chapter/book before I run out of time; I savor the words and take a minute to think of the words so carefully typed on the page. I can take twenty minutes to finish two pages because I stop so much to just mull over the book, the people, the ideas.

And then, when I've done enough thinking... I've mulled over enough ideas.... I've lived in my head long enough. I have to write. I have to get something out. I have to put pen to paper (or fingers to keys) and I have to put all my thoughts into words because if it doesn't come out I might just burst.

It's still quiet in the condo. Kids/babies/adults are all still asleep and a part of me wonders how anyone could sleep away the morning. The concept had eluded me as a child and it still constantly eludes me as an adult. But, good for them sleeping, because otherwise, I couldn't quietly commune with the beach.