I am always up before the sunlight manages to wedge it’s fingers between the dark folds of night, and the cold drops of dew still clinging to windowpanes. Up before the thoughts in my brain are more than a haze, muddled and murky. Everything swings into motion, a high speed chase after children and tasks and busses and work. I blink and try to clear my mind, slow the roll, breathe, but the world moves too quickly and insistently, not caring about my desire to savor and watch. I look to the side and scenes fly past, a blur. I find myself standing already in the evening, when it feels as if the days just begun. Time slows in the movement of the zipper I pull gently down my back, and I inhale. I close my eyes and stand still in my room. I can hear the children downstairs, already engaged in a game. I can smell dinner cooking, and feel the heat kick on to ward off the evening chill. I love this time, at the end of the day. We come full circle and our paths collide, at the end of the day.