Wake Up.

I hate waking up usually. The whole process irritates me, sleep is so hard to come by. Between work and the things I'd really like to be doing, things that don't allow for such silly things as free-time or rest. I usually spend my nights chasing it like I was running after a rainbow, forever in my sights but never within reach. It's maddening.
So on those lucky occasions that I do find a pot of gold and drift off to sleep, waking up in the morning, no matter how many hours I've slept, always feels like a swift kick in the nuts. My eyes aching from the bright sunlight, my back sore from the mattress. Good dreams disappear too quick and bad dreams linger too long. Waking up always sucks. Like finding a unicorn that lets you ride it, but when you get off it stabs you.
I've spent years waking up disappointed that I'm not still sleeping. Every roommate I've ever had tells me I'm scary in the morning. I'd even started to wear it like a badge of honor.

And then one night, the best night of my life. I found sleep easier than I ever have before. A soft rocking at the foot of the bed as a pair of tiny feet rubbed themselves together, brought me gently to sleeps door. A warmth on my neck I'd never felt before, that instead of making me hot, calmed my uneasy nerves.
And in the morning, when I opened my eyes after a peaceful dreamless sleep, instead of bright sunlight burning my iris, I saw the softest brown eyes I've ever seen, deep and kind. And suddenly for the first time I'm not upset that I'm awake. I'm not upset at all.
I'm Blessed.