I am not a morning person.
My childhood was marked by almost daily "episodes" (to put it gently) with either or both of my parents, in which I literally kicked (hard) and screamed my way to getting washed up, dressed and out the door to my nanny's. When I was in primary school, I grudgingly learned the art of getting up early, but not of waking up early. They are two very different things. Getting up involves climbing out of bed, brushing teeth, showering, eating, and so on. Waking up involves actual conscious cognition and function... something which didn't set in until at least an hour after I'd got out of bed.
My mum was either a classic Morning Person, or had become one through a lifetime of discipline. (Could that be me one day?) By 5.45 each morning, she'd be out of bed hanging laundry out, making breakfast, and having a coffee and talk with her favourite cat. There was never a school morning when I didn't have kaya toast, or similarly toothsome breakfast, and a hot drink in my own mug waiting for me at the table. By the time I was in upper secondary school, the hot drink had evolved into a chilled combination of Milo and coffee, which she'd make first thing in the morning and stash in the fridge so that by the time I woke up, it would be refreshingly cold. (And this was at least two years before the brilliance of Neslo Ais hit Malaysian stall-goers in a flash of genius.)
Up to now, I haven't been able to get just the right mixture of coffee, Milo, sugar and milk that will give me that taste.
Where was I? Oh. Yeah. I am not a morning person. (This is a VERY RARE morning post!) Although years in the working world have turned me into someone who will both get up and wake up early if required, I still haven't taken to it naturally. Coming from West Malaysia where the sun rises late, by the time I left the house for work the sun would already be well on its way. And since moving to Sydney, I have to say I haven't adapted my internal clock very well to local time.
Which is why it's so amazing that this morning, I was wide awake before 6, watching the sunrise over the city.
I didn't take any pictures, but I picked this one for an illustration because it's probably closest to the view I had, complete with the buildings in the foreground and the horizontal strip of orange light spreading over the darkness... the significance of which I hope to realise in the months to come.
I think the last time I was woken to watch the sunrise this deliberately was in 2006... I can't imagine how much beauty I miss by being true to my non-morning-person nature every day. I hope it won't take another two years for me to catch my next sunrise.
I wonder where the world's most glorious sunrises are...