I love mornings. I’ve always liked to get up early before anyone else in the house (parents, brother when I was little, husband, when I had). From 6 until everyone else woke up I had a luxurious time, escaping from everyday life to explore other lives, other worlds, those of characters in books. Morning has, for me, the fascination of the beginning. It contains promises, hopes, potentialities.
Of course, these promises of the beginning can be broken; of course, potentialities can prove limited during the day and hopes are often dashed. Life can be dull, uninteresting, odorless. But hope, the beginning, represents joy, dynamism, vigor, future, just as the birth of a child represents the glimpse of a possible better world.
What I do with my mornings underpins how I go through the day.
In the mornings I read, listen to podcasts, sometimes do a bit of exercise; make plans; get my thoughts in order; drink lots of lemon water or tea; drink two coffees, the best of the day.
When I cannot do all this, my day is poorer, pinched, like I’m parachuted into it.
What do you do for your mornings?