Morning Coffee

“What’s your perfect day look like?” Almost a year ago, a mentor asked me to define what this looked like. My progress is reflected by a piece of paper sitting in my office, written in pencil, titled, “Perfect Day.” I can’t seem to get past 6 AM, at least not yet.

What I do know is that something that continually produces returns in setting the stage for the remainder of the day is my solitary time each morning. Even on the weekends, I’ll wake up at 5 AM and slip downstairs to read, write, or watch television. I’m rarely in a rush to turn the TV on. There’s something settling about the soft glow of my MacBook sitting on my lap coupled with the warm, white ceramic mug cradled in my hand as I think of what to write or contemplate something I’ve just read.

That time is sacrosanct. The house is still, my family still sleeping upstairs. The shuffle of little feet across the ceiling above me is my indication it’s time to put the MacBook away. It’s usually my oldest who comes down first. She’ll join me on the couch as I finish my second cup of coffee, preparing for the transition from the couch to the remainder of the day.

While I don’t know what the rest of my “perfect day” will look like, I know I want each one to start like this, and that’s progress. The mentor told me the greater granularity you can provide, the more useful it will be. I can’t seem to get past 6 AM, but I’m certain I can now write the 5-6 AM portion in pen—this is something I want to make permanent. Morning coffee in the early hours of the day where solitude slowly gives way to my family.