Last night went smoothly. To bed, to sleep. Not much earlier than what was historically normal for us. I was a tad concerned our first early morning might be dicey. Today, Elihu’s first day of the Waldorf School, he rose at 5:30 on his own. He’d heard the creaking of the automatic rotating incubator in the living room and mistook it for the sound of me typing away at my laptop. I heard him call to me, and without checking the clock, summoned the mommy energy within to rise and go to his room. He was up. I mean up up. Not like half asleep, groggily calling out to me in the wake of some bad dream. Nope. He sat up in bed, eyes wide. “Oh” I said, “you’re up“. “Yes of course I’m up! I’ve been up since five! I heard you typing and thought I could finally talk to you.” I climbed into bed with him and explained what he’d heard and how when I’d first heard it again this year, while alone in the house, I’d been startled, even almost afraid. I caressed his head lazily and closed my eyes. “You know you don’t really have to be up for another forty-five minutes” I offered, hoping he might choose to doze. “Oh, but I want to be up. I want to have a whole hour with nothing to do but be with my chickens. I don’t ever want to feel rushed again in the morning.”
He was serious, for he jumped out of bed, ran to check the weather on my computer, then rushed back and got dressed in a flash. He came to me and picked up my arm, tugging at me to get up too. It was almost six. I noticed, to my own surprise, that I was not tired, not sleepy, that I didn’t really need nor want to lay in bed any longer. I too rose, and (as most mornings) still in my pajamas went out to open the coop. Elihu went to the cellar to tend to the chicks. Not used to having their coop door opened so early, the chickens were all still up high on the roosting bars. I’ve often thought that we’ve raised chickens on a rockstar schedule; they’re quite comfortable sleeping in, long after their neighbors have been up and set free for the day.
Our morning was unrushed and oh so pleasant on account of extra early rising. After a lovely breakfast (nothing new on the menu save an air of relaxation) and a shower for me we were ready to go. As we turned the car around to head for the road, we admired our flock, laughing at the show they put on for us. Austin, our guinea fowl, likes to hang out with Maximus the goose – although they constantly bicker they are always side by side (we jokingly call this an ‘alternative alternative’ lifestyle; same sex, different species), Bald Mountain, our alpha rooster, is always keeping second-in-command rooster Judson in check; Shirley Nelson our bearded Arauncana tries to stay out of the action, while Madeline is first in line to check it out. Thumbs Up (so named because of the silhouette of her comb) is precocious and smoochable. She’s the first to approach people, and often prefers our company to that of her flock. She watches the car carefully to see if we might open the doors and invite her in.
Finally, we’re off. I re-set the trip odometer and note the time. It takes us about fifteen minutes and 5.7 miles to reach the school. The third graders are all clumped together by the fence and they’re happy to see Elihu. Oh how happy I am to see this. Although Elihu has longed for this day, he is nontheless a bit hesitant. He hangs back to see where it is that he should go, what he should do with his backpack. He is greeted joyfully by name by the woman at the schoolyard gate, and she helps him get settled in. He even allows me a final quick kiss at my private beckoning for ‘un besito’. Then he is off. I try not to watch him too long. He is fine. He is finally where he should be. I check in briefly at the office, and there meet his teacher. I tell her that Elihu’s heart was so full of joy today. My heart is bursting too, but I don’t say this. Instead I make a little hop in place, and touch her arm. “I am so so happy we’re finally here’. I don’t want to be too over the top, but man do I mean it. I also don’t mean to act as if this heralds a conflict-free future for Elihu and me. I am aware their will be challenges in our future. There may be uncomfortable moments. I just think that we’ll be able to negotiate them so much better in this environment. At least that’s what I hope today.
As I drive home I cannot believe that my day is starting before Elihu would even have been on the bus in our old routine. I have so much to do, I don’t know where to start. I am mindful that I must pick Elihu up today, and that school lets out just past two. I still need to be economical with my time. What to do first? I am filled with joy and possibility. Plants begin to leaf out on the edge of the winding country road. Robins are everywhere. I laugh to myself. It feels so good to be up with the birds. Early bird gets the worm. Indeed.
The Hillhouse 