Until I met my wife, I thought the only way to get up was with an alarm, followed by a swift swing of legs into the cold air, launching myself with force into the morning – an abnegation of anything subtle or sweet, like jumping into icy water.
She will declare her love of bed, sinking slowly back into its comfort until I become impatient with the sheer indulgence of this routine and demand the morning gets going.
Now I am drawn from deep slumber by a trill of notes, an arpeggio perhaps or some soft chords, as I roll between the last fragments of dream and the day ahead.
Instead, we ease into the day with classical music and green tea, and it has transformed my outlook on life.
Instead, the radio gently rises in volume until some note of whatever is playing rouses me from my dream state into reality.
