Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

This morning I rose before 5 a.m., when the sun was probably just advancing over the Atlantic Ocean and still miles away from southwestern Michigan. I donned scrubby clothes, warm boots, and an extra jacket. Then I smeared my face with protective oil.

This was all before I snarled at Earl as he handed me a cup of hot coffee and a smile. Neither did much for my mood, but he knew it wouldn’t. It was just part of the deal.

Today, we went fishing and met Tim, the charter captain, at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m. Now first, I am not a morning person, since I think the sun should rise before I do. Second, I am not a fisher person. Third, I know that most fishing boats do not have bathrooms (although they call them “heads” on water), and you can guess what that means.

But I had agreed to go on this expedition because it seemed important to Earl. Which is why, I lay in the boat wrapped in a blanket and snoozed as Earl and Tim baited and reeled for a couple hours. By then it was time for the sun’s appearance, so I rose as if from my original bed. But a heavy cloud cover prevented any rays from shining down on us.

That’s how it went for six hours. They tried to lure fish; I tried to sleep. They ended up catching three nice salmon; I caught catnaps. The sun passed overhead, invisible still. It wasn’t exactly the morning I’d anticipated, but I still found myself relaxing and enjoying being outdoors.