Undercover

There's nothing finer than a cozy bed on a chilly morning.

Under the cover of two quilts and a fleece blanket, with four cats and all three dogs jockeying for position, I search for the will to rise and shine.  It's October, not quite all the way light, and the only thing I'm clear about is not wanting to leave this warm and secure nest.  Let daylight burn, I mumble and burrow a little deeper.  My grandmother would be appalled by this attitude, I think dimly, and while I can almost hear her disapproving voice, I find I can shut it out if I try hard enough.  I loved her dearly but we never did agree about mornings and on days like this, I can't help but think that all roads lead back to childhood.

As a child with one parent an alcoholic and the other overworked and mostly absent, I suffered from an excess of freedom or - depending on your point of view, I suppose - a fair amount of neglect.  There were no sleep overs at our house, no birthday parties, no study groups or supper guests or after school visits from friends.  We knew, I think by some natural instinct granted to children, that such things were for other kids - it was wiser and safer not to test the boundaries, smarter to follow the rules and keep family business in the family.

Solitary and self reliant children become solitary and self reliant adults with a shy streak a mile wide.  We have trouble with small talk and crowds, we're slow to trust and are often perceived as being distant, unfriendly, even anti-social.  We're not big on holidays and absolutely detest being the center of attention.  We don't like asking for help, don't like admitting we can't do it all.  Confrontation scares the daylights out of us.  We live with a constant fear of being unmasked, of failing or not meeting expectations, realistic or otherwise.  We keep to ourselves more often than not, need more approval than is good for us, and don't suffer fools at all.

On the bright side, we're curious, loyal to a fault, usually fairly well read and imaginative, often artistic.  We know the difference between lonely and alone and don't believe in regrets.  We've reconciled our demons as much as they will allow and learned to live with the ones that remain.  If not outright blissful - and really, who is - we're content and at peace.  These are some of the things I used to think about in my tiny, second floor room, on chilly October mornings when I would burrow deeper under cover in a second hand cot and search for the will to rise and shine.

Had I'd the will or the words to explain this to my grandmother, I'm pretty sure she'd have given me a few extra undercover minutes.

'Course she might also have booted me into next week.