The rain tapped insistently on my windowpanes this morning. It got me to thinking of how my mom would tap on my bedroom door in the mornings to wake me up for school. She had her hands full when it came to getting me up in the mornings. I have always been a night owl and I had many approaches to avoiding her early morning mission of shaking me from the comforting folds of sleep.
I would kick the comforter off the bed and then roll up in it — on the floor near the bed — so as to look like a discarded blanket. I would hide in the laundry room, sitting cross-legged on the floor by the side of the clothes dryer and out of her line of vision should she look into the laundry room. Leaning against the clothes dryer, its gentle warmth and movement rocked me (rightfully) back to sleep. I even hid in the linen closet. This small closet was so stuffed with sheets and pillowcases and towels and blankets and pillows of every sort that standing in the closet with my back to the linens and closing the door in front of me provided me with a really comfortable bed. I only had to lean back to fall back into the arms of sleep. The door kept me positioned against my clandestine cushions.
Each time my mother opened my makeshift boudoir door she and I both screamed: she screamed at the sight of a person in the closet and I screamed in alarm at being reawakened by such an urgent assault on my ears.
She sure put up with a lot of shenanigans from me. I smiled as I thought of her and got up to start my day with no one to hide from but myself and long ago done with that. The rain’s insistent tapping turned to music, clouds-full. And the music of the morning reminded me of how (and apparently I do this too) my mom always hums when she is happy.
I am humming along with the rain, thinking of my mom, and wishing you a happy Tuesday.