This morning I am up early. I wake to a headache that turns into an invitation to join the day way before I normally would. I decide to take the day up on its offer after laying in bed for a bit, listening to the sounds of Mr. Ladd readying himself to go into the office. Some mornings I shove a pillow over my head, annoyed at the predictable sounds of his morning routine. But other mornings, I love the steadiness of it...how I know he's going to put lotion on after he puts in his contacts, or how (ever the multitasker) he will get dressed while brushing his teeth, thumping from the closet to the dresser with bare feet and a toothbrush in his mouth. I know he'll put his shoes on before his shirt, and this morning, I love him for his quirky, dependable patterns.
After he leaves, I head downstairs in a sweatshirt and slippers, relishing the silent morning chill that will only be around for a couple more months. The dogs remain burrowed under blankets upstairs, unwilling to comply with my unusual timing. It's just before sunrise, and the sky is Earl Grey, with warm tea stained edges at the horizon where the sun is stirring. I stand at the kitchen counter with my toast in hand, staring out the window, not wanting to miss it. The first birds are sounding the alarm sleepily as kitchen and bedroom windows begin to light up in the surrounding houses. Neighbors are rising for work and school.
As the sun lights up the palm trees from underneath, setting them on fire, I am grateful. Many mornings I've only cursed this hour, well into the frantic norm of rushed preparation for the day ahead; quickly grabbing a boring lunch, putting on sensible shoes, and mainlining caffeine as I tried to recall too many obligations. I had missed it, but today I will not. I am given an invitation to slowly join the day, so I take it, sitting down with the sun to sip some tea and feed my soul.
