In the cold, dark early morning that is five a.m., Lauren decided to begin her day. No amount of tucking in, or sweet imploring, or stern reminders that “it isn’t time to get up yet” could convince her to go back to sleep. So, if Lauren’s day begins, then so does mine. With thermostat preprogrammed at sixty-three degrees until six a.m., the house was downright frigid. I bundled Lauren up against the chilly air, and overrode the program. I wheeled her into the great room and turned on the morning news. Somehow it’s comforting to have proof that someone else is up at that hour. With warm throws, we settled into Lauren’s favorite chair, a recliner/loveseat, and listened to the ills that had befallen the world since we closed our eyes the night before. I tried to doze but could tell that someone was watching me. I would open my eyes to an innocent smile and wide-awake eyes looking back at me, illuminated by the glare of the TV. Around six-thirty I caught her yawning and convinced her to lay back. I turned off the news and turned on some music. She finally slept and I dozed alongside her, afraid to shift my position lest I wake her. Seven-thirty soon arrived and it was time to get up so that we could make sure her medication was on time. It was a bright, sunny morning. She was happy to get on with her day. I was just tired.