My burning eyes open far before the long winters night ends.  The sweet smell of baby’s breath on my forehead and yanking on my cheeks with fingernails sharp and long; this my alarm clock.  Despite the sound of slumbering all around me; I have to pry myself of out my cozy cocoon and hope that no one stirs while I creak across the wood floor.  Even the timer on my coffee pot has high hopes of a later rise, and I have to convince my finger to press the go button, to just submit.

But alas, the sun does rise. 

And the day begins.