Norman Balmoral: I won't give it up

Why doesn’t Agnes get up earlier in the morning?

Take this past Saturday. After a busy week designing blueprint after blueprint I popped out of bed at 6 in the morning. I opened the drapes, pulled up the window, and peered onto the streets of West Philadelphia. What a beautiful spring day, crystal clear and cool like a summer lake in the northern mountains! It had me bursting at the seems to start my day. So I looked over at Agnes, shaped like a pretzel under the covers, her head buried in the pillows, and shrugged. If she wanted to miss this day …

So I donned my running gear and dashed out of the house. I headed down to Penn Field and did four miles around the track. How invigorating! I ran back to the apartment, but stopped in the pharmacy first – some books needed balancing before the store opened at 9. I organized the store’s counters before heading up the stairs to the apartment.

Mother was preparing bacon and eggs for breakfast, but I passed in favor of some yogurt and fresh fruit. Dad just shook his head. I looked at the closed bedroom door. “Is Agnes awake yet?”

“No, dear, she’s been still as a mouse.”

The clock said 8:30. How could Agnes sleep this late on a Saturday morning?

I opened the bedroom door and blurted, “Rise and shine, dear! Time for breakfast.”

She gurgled and moaned some sort of response, I couldn’t tell what, and turned over to the other side. No waking her up, I guess. So I closed the door, freshened myself up in the wash basin, and changed my clothes for the day’s business at the store. If she weren’t six months pregnant, I’d make a fuss and insist she wake up in time for Mother’s breakfast. After the baby’s born, I suppose, I’ll make sure she’s up bright and early. There’s work to be done.