these days it’s a safe bet that the baby will wake up around six thirty, meaning that if i am successful in waking as the clock turns from 5:59 to 6:00, i can creep downstairs into the dark kitchen, put on a pot of coffee and enjoy thirty minutes of blissful peace and quiet before the hustle and bustle of my day begins. (sometimes i wonder how working mothers do it, and then i remind myself that that will be me soon. what an adjustment it is sure to be).
those first thirty minutes are glorious. the sun has not yet risen and the house is dark and silent, save for the sputtering of the coffee maker.
coffee is my savior these days. i used to laugh at a good friend of mine back in canada who, as she brought her first coffee of the day to her lips, would say: “hold on, let me drink my personality.” but she was on to something.
on those quiet mornings that i’m able to wake before the baby, i keep the lights low. sometimes i log on to my computer and check my favorite blogs. sometimes i sit at the kitchen table with my journal, or a book. sometimes i simply sit – with coffee in hand – on the couch in silence, my thoughts swirling around me.
those first thirty minutes are a reminder that every day is a gift, and that maybe, just maybe, there is a lot more to be thankful for than I thought.