We have two versions of morning as long as we're not on vacation:

One happens in San Francisco, where we've usually been woken up several times throughout the night to homeless people screaming at each other in my alley or the recycling people coming 10 times a night or garbage men clanging their cans like so many church bells. The alarm pulls me out of bed and I snooze it for an extra 15 minutes (this is the major similarity in the Berkeley and San Francisco mornings...we both love our snooze), when we actually get up, she shuffles to the shower, while I put on a hat and some tennies and dig around for some clothes and wander to the corner to grab her a cup of coffee (lowfat milk, one Sweet 'n Low), check on the Jeep and come back. By then, her shower's ending and I'm making the bed and straightening the apartment and often trying to find her something from my girl wardrobe that she can wear to work. Usually, she urges me to go back to bed rather than my ritual coffee/car check routine, but it *is* ritual after all and I like that. I get my chat in with my homeless friend, Bill, and to know that she's getting caffeinated on the way over the Bay Bridge. Bill is the one, that ill-fated day, who told me that there was trouble in NYC. G knew something was wrong by the look on my face as I rushed to turn the TV on. I was so glad not to be alone and so clueless still as to the magnitude of what had happened. It crossed my mind right then that I'd always remember her and she'd always remember me because we'd be part of the other's "Where were you when" story, though I'm sure there will be other reasons to remember one another ;) I kiss her and she's on her way. The bed is made so I resist the tempation to get back in it and the day begins.

The other happens in Berkeley, the most frequent morning we share and probably my favorite. Up I go after snoozing the alarm for ten more minutes wrapped around her, shower, make-up, hair, the 15 minute morning routine and then back to wake her with tiny kisses all over her face and a few more moments of my arms around her. I make the bed, she showers. I listen to K-FOG, since she hates Sarah and Vinnie. And then she drives me to BART and we wait until that night, when we know that no matter what meetings or dates with friends or softball games we might have, we'll find our way back to each other's arms. We just can't help it anymore. We talk about the fact that it'd be nice to miss each other and spend a night apart, but I love to go to bed and wake up with her...what can I say. And I also love that we have our other lives too, that she does her things and I do mine and at the end of it we're together. 'Cause we *are* together after all. And have I mentioned lately how beautiful that is?

October 19, 2001