A QUIET MORNING

Being able to take my time in the mornings was something I always treasured.  It would often be later in the afternoon - sometimes around eleven or twelve.  I would slowly crawl out of bed and head out to brunch with my husband.  Never too early, and never too rushed.  Now at the strike of half-past seven, I am greeted at a (much) earlier time.  A tiny person who hears the tiniest beginnings of birdsongs and first glimpses of sunlight makes sure that I too, am up to greet the day.

I mentioned in an earlier post how routine is so important to me, this is especially so for the start of my day.  I will tip-toe while half asleep to Sofia's room and sing her the song I made for her to wake to.  We groggily dance in the early morning sun and put on a fresh pair of pajamas.  If I'm lucky, we can make it back to our room where I'll try to catch a few extra minutes of sleep before my hair is being tugged, eyes are playfully poked, or drool has dripped on my cheek from a mouth other than my own.  I'll put on a teapot of water, grind up fresh coffee beans, and begin to create the single cup of lasting energy I use to get through the day.  As I'm beginning to see more of my daughter's personality, I am thankful I see some of "me" in her.  She quietly tends to her toys in the morning, crawling over to the container holding them and picking her favorites: usually Minnie Mouse or her crinkle-flashcards.  It's almost strange how she knows I need that twenty minutes of time to myself where I enjoy my coffee, make a simple breakfast, and curl up with a blanket for a few minutes watching her play.

She has a routine, as do I.

Yet still amongst these traditions, we spend our quiet mornings...  together.