Yesterday, I woke you up with a good morning post! Well, I then spent the day feeling a little awkward about the presumptuous way this post came out in the early morning. I was raised better (or at least different) than that. You see, while I stand by the statement that we should wish everyone that we contact a good morning simply to start their day with a bit of unexpected cheer, we cannot forget those who are in the same line for coffee but they are simply trying to wake up enough to make the drive home after a late night shift.
I am a coal miner’s daughter. I remember tiptoeing on days that we didn’t go to school because the mornings were his night time. This is when he got to sleep. Although he tried to sleep while we were at school so that he would be awake a bit when we were home, there were days that we were home and sleep was simply impossible. Then there were the times of swing shifts when my brother and I would peek out the window to look for his truck so we would know if we needed to be quiet or if we could run through the house driving our mother insane.
When I hit middle school and the phone calls started coming in (yes, the old house phones) my friends were frequently at the wrong end of the line when the ringing woke him up. Let’s face it, he was tired. He, along with all of these other hard-working men and women, crawled all night through conditions that even I cannot imagine just to make sure we could turn on the lights in the morning or stay warm at night. I remember the black tape wrapped around the wounds on his hands because the dampness would not allow a regular bandage to stick. I remember the fear everytime the news would share another story of an “incident” at one of the local mines. I remember my father’s accidents or at least the ones that he had no choice but to tell about.
He is retired now and I am so thankful for this but he tells me that his sleep schedule is still messed up from the years underground during the night. I can only imagine that, as we are all waking up, he is finally able to rest. So, good night, Dad!
I think of Gloria and Braxton’s mother who stands guard at the prison as the inmates are restless through the night. While we are all sleeping, she must be at her most alert. During the day, she “naps” between handling all of her duties as a mother. My mother and I fill in where we can so that she has enough rest to be safe when she hits that time clock the next night. So to you, Chelsea, good night!
The attendants who check us in when we arrive late at the hotels. The gas station clerks who are thankfully open when we realize that we did not fill up before we headed out. The stockers and the servers who make certain that everything that we need in the morning is there for us. To the insomniacs who simply could not shut their eyes throughout the night. The new mothers who have infants who do not sleep.
To all of you, good night!