There is only ONE alarm clock I will tolerate with any sort of friendly greeting in the mornings, and that is the sound of the coffee maker beeping it’s arrival at the finish line. The smell, sweet bliss to my nostrils that are so thirsty for the heavenly drug that that beeping offers them. My eyes open slowly and I feel the last remnants of the dreamy sleep world fall away as my mouth starts to water for just one sip, on large sip of the brewed juice waiting for me on the level below. My feet, seemingly move on their own from under the blankets to the floor, even the shock of leaving the warmth and safety of my bed doesn’t stop my feet from pulling me forward, pushing me to get socks on, to stumble, still bleary eyed to the door, down the steps… all for that first sip, for the love of that first sip of morning coffee. No other coffee during the day has the same satisfaction, nothing will ever match that first sip. I go to the fridge, by passing children racing trucks over my toes in an attempt at gaining attention, I get out the milk, blindly patting Kaleb on the head in an effort to ease his pain at being not fully in my attention. I move to the machine that encases my morning help, my morning coping mechanism, my wonder drug that keeps me sane until such time as I can wake on my own. I pour a cup, a large cup, put some milk in to cool it down, and then, without moving to a new location, with sitting down or looking for a more comfortable spot I pull that mug up to my lips… my eyes close in anticipation, my taste buds sense that they are about to be fulfilled with intoxication and they begin to water… I let the mug hover at my lips while my nose is wonderfully assaulted by the smells and wonders that this magic drink has to offer, not wanting and of my senses to miss out on this bliss. The room seems silent, still, although I can, in the distant recesses of my mind feel that there is chaos around me, children yelling, dogs barking, husband talking, toys being thrown or fought over… but where I am, in this moment, none of it penetrates, this is my moment and I wallow in it. I tip the mug, just a little further, the dark liquid hitting my lips, I lick them, catching the precious first drop on my tongue and savoring it. I tip the mug further, and the dark liquid, the brewed drug of wonder, slides down my throat, I allow the heat to forge my day, readying me for what lays ahead, I allow it flow through my veins, allowing my senses to fully come alive… and as I do, slowly, the fog clears, no longer a distant chaos the noise around me begins to consume me. I turn and look at my family, at the kids who are so happy to see me, the husband who makes it possible for me to have this moment every morning, the dog who will happily lap up the last of the cup later in the morning, at the dishes that say they have been fed, and I realize that what was chaos moments before is now just home, simple and beautiful and I wouldn’t want anything else, the noise, the fighting, the toys, the high pitch giggles and rough and tumble play, it is my family and I love them.
2 thoughts on “manna from heaven..?”
You really like coffee. I do too, but I don't think as much as you do.That was fun to read.
Doug ~ Yes, it's my morning survival routine… I fear my family would leave me if not for that miracle of a bean! 🙂 Thanks for your comment! 🙂