My father claimed rising before the sun was ingrained in him while in the army. Those mornings I heard him stirring I felt so safe and comfortable, knowing all was in order. Sometimes I’d get up along with him. If it were Saturday or Sunday we’d go to Krispy Kreme on West End and sit bellied up to the counter eating our plain cakes in silence. We’d watch the glazed doughnuts behind the plate glass move slowly along the conveyor belt. Returning home with our assortment of doughnuts for the rest of the family who were only now beginning to stir was a perfect finishing touch to the morning. It is my special memory. And even today I feel the soul of my father in the 6 AM hour.