03:45 is what the clock on my phone reads when my first alarm goes off in the morning. It’s early. The only other times I’ve been awake at this hour have been to catch a flight, or if I’m still up from a really good night out. I try to be out of bed by 4 to make sure I have a full hour to get ready, and then my roommates and I leave the apartment to meet the others in the parking lot by 5. The sun has not yet followed our lead. After several rounds of “good morning,” we all load into the vans and head to Zorbas, a combination bakery, convenience store, and coffee shop (though the coffee shop is not ready for service at the early hour that we arrive each day). A warm pastry and cold canned coffee makes a perfect breakfast, and the women who work there are lovely. 

One Sunday we arrived, after having just seen them the day before (and the previous five days as well). We were digging on the weekend to make up for the following week being canceled due to the military base changing their shooting schedule last minute. Stricken with horror that we were working not only through the heatwave, but also on the weekend, they handed one of the grad students a bag of twenty or so little lemon custard pastries, on the house. “Even Sunday??” they questioned, amazed. They now give us what we’ve been calling “pity pastries” seemingly every day on our way to go work in the heat. They’re delicious. 

Once we arrive on site, we set our things down, and set up the shade tent and stools. The light is soft. Soon, we get our marching orders, jump into our respective trenches, and begin digging, or sweeping, or whatever is needed. It feels so easy in the cool morning air. Sometimes I even wonder, if I struggled the previous day, what the big deal was. Second breakfast can’t be too far off now anyway.