Breakfast is in the oven and I am retreating to the local Starbucks for some caffeine. I’ve been awake since 5 am, when a constant droning sound awakened me. I finally got up and walked around the house, hovering outside each of the rooms to locate the noise.
It’s an interesting house. Each of the 14 small bedrooms has a twin bed, a nightstand, sink, and crucifix. It’s the nuns’ retreat house and it is perfect for our family gatherings.
After determining that the noise is not coming from any of the rooms, I open the back door to the balcony. The noise is coming from the out on the ocean – the foghorn. I groan and return to my little twin bed. The horn continues to drone and I can’t convince myself to let it lull me back to sleep. So I pick up my iPod and resume the book on tape.
My quiet retreat from the noise lasts until 6 am hits when the young New Yorkers are up and cheerfully, and loudly, letting their wake up known. They hover outside of YaYa’s door, hoping he will hear them.
I get up to let the day begin.