It's 5:00 am. Years ago, living with my parents, occasionally, I would wake early enough to see my father before he left for work. He had a routine: get up at 5:00, shower, get dressed, read the bible, eat a little breakfast and be out the door by 5:30. I thought that was early, way too early for me. I worked at the factory where he was a manager, one summer, which meant I had to get up a few minutes after he did. I remember thinking it was okay, at first, and by the end of the summer, I couldn't wait to get up at my normal time.
I'm past my father's age, when I worked with him that summer. And I rise much earlier than he did. I'm out the door at 5:15 thereabouts, but I'm on my way to the gym. I exercise for about an hour and then it's off to work.
A few years ago, I took classes toward a masters in Counseling. There were mornings I either didn't go to bed or I work early to study and write. Now the routine is ingrained in my psyche: rise early, get work done and prepare for the day.
We really do become our parents, don't we?
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