Morning Light

I love the mornings, especially a leisurely morning with time to read and relax.  During the school year, I’m up at at 5:30 in the morning so that I don’t have to rush to be ready for school.  I listen to NPR, take time to read e-mail, and generally gird myself for a busy day to come.  I work seven-day weeks in the school year, rarely completely setting aside work on the weekend.  I’ve always been that way, knowing that I’d have a whole Summer to renew and refresh.   

I work a 12 month calendar since I took the job in the Middle School.  To combat my tendency to work at full tilt in the Summer months as well, a few years back  I instituted my own set of Summer rules.  I wake up a little later, at 6 instead f 5:30 am.  For the most part, I don’t read work e-mail in the morning, on the weekends, or in the evenings.  I take every spare moment to be outside in the light and warmth.  I read book after book.  I spend my Summer mornings on the front porch or the back deck, reading, drinking coffee, and enjoying my garden.  

When Summer first begins, it’s light when I rise and by the time I’m downstairs to pour my coffee, the sun has risen.  With the arrival of August, the morning light begins to fade and when I come downstairs for coffee, the sun is still short of the horizon. The light is golden but not bright and it’s lovely outside.

I’m always sorry to see the Summer come to an end.  This year, I’m a little sorrier than usual.  That’s the case both because it’s been a mild and lovely Summer and because when school starts, JT begins his Senior year.  This will be our 15th year at school together, it's also our last year  together.  Next year, he’ll be packed off for college and I’ll be driving off to school on my own.  More than usual, I’m aware of the bittersweet passage of time.

Part of me would like to hold on to this light forever.  I know this isn't possible.  So I plan to embrace it while it lasts.

In the Stillness and the Hope

New students arrive at school today and I thought of them as I took in the morning's stillness.  I am an early riser once school starts, awakening just after 5:30 am.  The sun is rising later and later these days and so there was just a faint line of light at the horizon as a I drank my coffee, breathed in the quiet chirp of the birds, and embraced the peace.

Then I heard a neighbor's alarm clock ring.  Second later, a roaring plane flew overhead.  The spell was broken.  I stepped back inside and poured a second cup of coffee to hear news of Congress squabbling and Syrian refugees pouring into the Jordanian desert.  In just a few hours, I will meet nervous new Middle Schoolers and their anxious parents.  The real world seems to offer the persistent risk that the brief quiet peace of my morning will be quickly lost in the shuffle.

My plan for this school year is to embrace at least a few moments of the morning's quiet promise every day.  I will breathe in the air as the light comes to the horizon and hold on to the stillness as I face the day's turbulent adolescent challenge.  I will be grateful for my multiple blessings and walk back into the world prepared to live in hope.

Flying Her Freak Flag

My home has a small downstairs bathroom with just enough room for a toilet and a sink.  Each morning, I blow dry my hair in this small room.  It is not spacious, though it is easy enough to get the job done.  The room has a large south-facing window and the light is often quite lovely.

Lucy has taken to joining me in the mornings, though it is not quiet companionship that she brings to my grooming routine.  Instead, while I try to blow dry my hair at the sink, she rolls around on the toilet and meows in an unpleasant and whiny fashion.  It's like being hounded by a tiny feline monster.

If I pet her while I run the blow drier, she is happy.  If not, she joins me at the sink to ensure that her demands are loud and clear.  

Oh, Lucy.