I Lost My Mornings

I lost my mornings nine years ago and I only realized it this week. It's not that I don't have mornings anymore, but they're not my mornings. Not my time to catch the sunrise surf or wake early and watch the sky change color.

The one day a week that I do own my mornings, I use them to sleep, since sleeping when you have a disabled parent to care for is an oxymoron. But let's not worry about that now. My concern is that it took me nine years to realize I hadn't been swimming at dawn in, well you guessed it, nine years. I could have noticed after five years that I hadn't watched the sunrise in five years. Or noticed after three years that I hadn't stayed up all night and watched the sky change color in three years.

So I'm not sure what that says about me other than I've been sucked into Zombie land. Zombie land is a strange place. No fun. No play. But you're so busy working, you don't even notice that recess has been canceled. I'm not really sure what to do about it. There doesn't seem to be an exit gate or glow in the dark signs pointing the way out of here. Or maybe the signs are there, but because I'm a Zombie, I don't notice.

If you happen to notice some befuddled mornings walking about in circles not quite sure where they belong, will you send them my way?