It begins with coffee, always.
Well, I suppose before there can be coffee, there has to be the act of waking, of climbing out of bed and trudging down the stairs. In a perfect world, this would be done before my toddler is awake, so that I can enjoy the quiet darkness before the day truly begins.
I would make a coffee, sit on the couch and open a book… whatever I happen to be reading. I would read for twenty minutes, and then, with likely a lukewarm half cup of coffee, head into the office to write.
I would write, and write… and write.
And then my son would wake up, and together he and my husband would come downstairs, wiping sleep from their eyes, requesting breakfast. We would eat together as a family, this perfect little family of three, just the way it’s meant to be.
There would be a second cup of coffee, because, #addicted, and then — because it’s my ideal morning (and therefore not necessarily reality) — I would go for a walk around the neighborhood because it’s the perfect temperature out and my iPhone is shuffling through the perfect mix of music to keep me going.
And then, a warm shower, the application of mascara and blush, and kisses for my boys as they head off for their day.