I wake up this morning without veiled stubbornness keeping me in bed. The sensation is an unusually positive one, perhaps having something to do with the fact that I set my alarm from 7:00 and not 5:00 AM. Though a linger for a few minutes, I eventually rise. Greeting my already dressed father Good Morning, I move next to the dog, sound asleep on my parent’s bed. I kiss him and pull a blanket over him so he’s not cold and remind my mom of the time, as she is also sound asleep.
Moving downstairs and greeting my brother, I determinedly sit down for my meditation (because some mornings it’s hard). After brushing my teeth, I move some items into my bag I’m bringing to work today and take out my jacket, scarf, and gloves. I pour a 5 fl oz glass of Kombucha (which I like to drink in the morning when we have it), and sip it while I dress in one of my thickest sweaters. It is the coldest day we’ve in awhile. I am thinking about making coffee. I again remind Mom of the time before coming back downstairs. This time she’s more agreeable.
Doing a very quick light makeup application, I come into the kitchen to make coffee and have my usual breakfast of sliced apple with cinnamon and peanut/almond butter. As I am getting ready to grind the coffee beans, a mouse trap goes off in the pantry – we soon learn, set off by the dog. Thankfully he’s okay, hasn’t eaten the bait of provolone cheese, and is just a little startled. I chastise my mom; She has been trying catch this rogue, singular mouse for weeks with no results. I tell her the trap is useless and she should get rid of it, for fear of the dog hurting himself. She is resolute and cannot be moved. We pass in the kitchen like two icebergs for about 5-7 minutes, before I let the moment go and mention how the new rug we’ve set down in here is actually doing a great job at keeping the kitchen a little warmer in this frigid weather.
Coffee is brewing. I whack the top of the machine of our single-cupper a couple times to make the slow drip-drip-drip transform into it’s usual constant stream. Slicing my apple and measuring my almond butter, I take my breakfast to the table and retrieve the coffee, now nice and warm and ready for me to drink.
“So are you going to talk to me or am I going to have to compete with your phone?” I snarkily remark to my mother, who is very engaged with her device. These comments are common, as is the behavior. I’m constantly getting at her for being on the phone too long, being too absorbed with it and ignoring the world around her.
“What do you want to talk about?”
I feed the dog a little spot of almond butter. “Literally anything.”
We get to playing the Good Morning Jazz playlist on Spotify – from her phone, because since I updated to the new iOS, I haven’t properly reconnected my phone to the Amazon Echo in our kitchen.
She’s taking the dog to the vet today. Nothing serious. I think just a little checkup, maybe some nail trimming and to inform him of Mario’s new chicken allergy we’ve discovered. Not sure if she’s driving me to the bus or if I’m taking an Uber/Lyft there. I suppose we’ll all figure it out soon.
I place my dishes in the sink and continue to sip my coffee. The jazz music continues to play. I am typing details to a morning I probably would forget the details of if you were to ask me about it three days from now.