Monday, September 12, 2011

morning quiet

I got up this morning, tired per usual, but with the ability to get up and function. In the quiet kitchen, I made hubby's breakfast and coffee. I love the wood floors, and the beginnings of less, so I can see what's there, what I need to do, what I have. It even makes the overflowing weekend's worth of dishes easier to think about. And a moment of grace - eldest's glasses...assignment papers...water bottle. First thought: well, I'll tell her they're there, but if she doesn't take them, it'll be lesson learned. But if it were my own blood-born? I'd help. I'd gather. So I help. I gather. They're put into a neat pile on the corner of the table for her to see and easily put in her backpack.

Breakfast and coffee made, hubby descends to the first floor. No more self-quiet, but still we-quiet. First-light discussions of finances, lunch, later-in-the-week hobbies. Peacefully. Eldest decends - dripping hair, packback strapped way too loosely, panicking from running late, doesn't have time to move soccer stuff from backpack to soccer bag (doesn't need the soccer papers, she says), but wants to take time for me to scrounge for gum (didn't brush her teeth). If no time for soccer bag, no time for gum. Running late.

A quick ("just the facts, ma'am," the way she wants it) reminder - if you don't want big arguments, it begins in the small everyday willingness and lack of attitudinal answers - and they're out the door. Love you. Have a good day. See you tonight.

And a vacancy in the house. I stand at the front screen door, smelling the cold morning air (my favorite). Bailey comes and stands beside me. "Hi, puppy." I watch the car across the street pull out and drive off. A vacancy in that house. I think about the person in that house cleaning up from making breakfast, putting prep things away, now taking the time to make their coffee, listening to the quiet, cold morning.

Oldest boy comes down, sleepy 5 year old "hi, mommy" snuggles. Finding markers, practicing L's.

And off we go again. God, give me the grace to keep this early morning quiet in my attitude all day, even later when it's very bright and very warm and very loud.


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