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My phone blasts a stupid and redundant “Good Morning” song at me. My eyes snap open, then threaten to close again after I shut off the alarm. I don’t want to get up. My bed is warm and comfortable, and my wife slumbers next to me, a slight snore escaping her throat every few seconds. She looks so beautiful, lying there. Peaceful. I wish I didn’t have to leave.
I rush through my morning routine – shower, guzzle coffee, warm up the car. It’s below zero outside and I see it snowed again in the night. I bundle up. Many, many layers.
I roll into work, sliding a little as I pull into the lot. The instant adrenaline reaction gets my blood pumping, but doesn’t quite surpass my fatigue. I was up late last night – again – whispering sweet nothings to my wife across the pillow.
As my computer roars to life, I yawn and shake my head. I need to concentrate now. I have to work so my wife doesn’t have to. I have to sit with my strained, bloodshot eyes and my aching back, day in and day out, so my wife can follow her dream. So she doesn’t have to work at Wal-Mart. So she can be happy and fulfilled.
I’d do anything to make her smile.