My Family Never Put Much Priority On My Comfort Or Happiness. I'm Slow To Wake Up, And I Grew Up Thinking

My family never put much priority on my comfort or happiness. I'm slow to wake up, and I grew up thinking that I hate mornings. My sister is the type of a person who is as wide awake as she'll be all day as soon as her eyes snap open, and when we were teenagers she used to wake me up on school days by tossing the dog at me (our old Tessa was enough of a terrier to always land on her feet, claws first, and could be tossed like a cat) and waking up every day having to wrestle a dog's tongue out of my mouth before I could open my eyes was Not Nice.

My family would berate me for being too sensitive, dramatic, or even downright manipulative, for being able to burst into tears first thing in the morning.

When my boyfriend wakes up before me, he takes meticulous care not to wake me up. He climbs out of bed so cautiously and slowly, gets dressed without turning on the light, and sits quietly in the dark of our one-room apartment until my alarm rings or I wake up on my own. This morning, I woke up to notice that the room was softly lit in a way I didn't recognise, and saw the love of my life quietly gaming in the light of a storm lantern.

I love mornings.