To Know

My reasons are myriad.

In the literal sense, it's usually because little hands begin pulling at me in the predawn hours, beckoning me out of bed long before I'd wish to depart. Sleeping in is a mythical creature, a remnant of a world extinct an era ago. I fight waking these days. I want just a few minutes more. I'm desperate for a good night's sleep. My mind won't go to bed until well past midnight, driven to the brink by the billion ideas swirling in a make-believe toilet bowl. But the Children are up at five.

So, I drag myself out of bed, part from blankets with a bitter glare, and find my second reason waiting downstairs. Sometimes I've had the forethought to set the coffee pot the night before, and on those mornings my mood is greatly improved. I am in love with the me of yesterday, who knew how badly I'd need the boost. I sip in reason number two and relish in the artificial energy. When I am fully awake, I can revisit reason number one again. I can smile and cuddle and bark orders in the mom voice that no one in my family really believes.

Reason number one comes in a package of four: Boy, Girl, Girl, Girl.

The boy is tender. The boy has dusty brown hair and light green eyes. He is quick to laugh and obedient to a fault. The boy carries a deep sadness within him- a sadness we share. The boy spends long hours in his bedroom falling into tunnels of imagination, devouring literature, writing stories well beyond the reasonable limitations of his age. The boy is desperate to please, hopelessly in love with the world around him, hoping that someday he'll find someone other than his mother to share his fervor. The boy is reason enough all on his own.

The Girls. The girls have golden locks and eyes the shade of oceans.

The girls are quick-witted and clever. The girls are cunning. The girls are masters of manipulation already. The girls are made of the stone that is the other half of me, with outrageously high IQs, gifted from their father. But their cracks show, too. The oldest is so intelligent it hurts. She is a master of the mind, reading emotions accurately, analyzing them, deciding on the most logical conclusion before any action. She limits herself with her reasoning. She is hungry to know. She's starved for the truth. She has been taking textbooks and encyclopedias to bed since she turned 3. She cannot sleep either. So she reads. She learns. She knows. The girl is reason enough all on her own.

Girl number two has uncanny charisma. When she walks into a room it is brighter for her presence. She laughs and others echo. She's sad and eyes weep. She turns her gaze in interest on some small thing, and the world grovels to put it into her grasp. She is the one who is sickly, too. She is a thin waif where her siblings are robust. She nearly died two years ago and it clings. It has made her live with unmatched intensity. She loves with reckless abandon, her rage is swift and explosive, her joy brighter than the flash of lightning on a dark night. She is so stubbornly alive- it makes everyone she meets want to be that way along with her. The girl is reason enough all on her own.

Girl number 3 is the comedian. She is naturally funny in a way the rest of the family fails to be. She is barely out of toddlerhood, but her mastery of comedic timing and necessary inflection is a wonderment to behold. She is pure delight. Animals gravitate to her presence-- they sense that special thing in her--the good humor. She regularly outwits her gifted siblings. She is a beacon of limitless potential. She is the one that keeps our family approachable. The rest of us are weirdos, and she has already fallen into an unintentional role of making us accessible to the world. She is our glue. The girl is reason enough all on her own.

With children like these, how could one possibly stay abed? Watching their progress is reason enough unto itself. But I have more reasons.

Reason number three is a great hulking beast of a man. He is tall and muscled and ridiculously smart. It is infuriating beyond belief to argue with him. When we met, he had a reputation as a know-it-all. I quickly learned why. He would spout facts in the midst of regular conversation as if he were reading it off of google right then and there. I hated it-- at first. And then I realized that he hardly even knows he's doing it. The truth is important to him, and in that big, brilliant brain of his, he is able to store so much information... it occasionally comes leaking out. He wears a mask of indifference, to protect his heart, but when you pull it back, there is a sweet boy hiding beneath: a boy who's a lot like our son. The man is dynamic and brutish and handsome. He is a lock with an ever-changing set of keys. He is a puzzle that I never grow tired of finding new pieces for. He is a lover beyond my wildest dreams. He feeds my body and my mind. Loving him is a quest of intrigue and I never grow tired of it. The man is enough reason all on his own.

But then there is me. How did I get up before these people were a part of my life?

The answer is simple and perhaps boring in comparison to the reason that is my people.

I am starved.

I could devour the world if given the opportunity. That desire in my daughter: to KNOW. I have it, too. I want to know. I want to learn. I want to soak up every last little ray of sunshine. I want to walk through forests and deserts and caves and endless amber fields. I want to live so recklessly, so passionately, so fully.

I want the world to know I was here.

I want to string symphonies in black ink upon the pages of time.

I want to love.

The reason I get up in the morning is because I know in some place deep inside myself, that anything can happen.

And I want to be the first to see it.