I am not a morning person, and, yet, I love mornings. Well, I love them once I pry myself out of my bed and head downstairs for some coffee and quiet time in my favorite chair. I enjoy the predictable routine and rhythm of my morning alone time with God, my Bible, my husband, and the quiet. It eases me into the day and I tend to leave myself enough time to tend to my heart and soul before the day begins. Because one of my other favorite parts of my mornings is hearing the sound of my 16 year old’s door softly close upstairs and then the anticipation of her voice, usually from the stairs before her feet reach the first floor.
“Hello?” Her voice is soft and questioning, calling out a greeting before her eyes have found me in my place.
The sound of her voice brings an easy smile to my lips. This is our now well-established greeting as she deposits her favorite things in her favorite spot and we check in to see how each of us is doing, how each of us slept, and I ask the obligatory and almost rhetorical question, Are you hungry? This is often followed by or even preceded by her question, Did anyone empty the dishwasher yet?
And so begins my day with the first teenager, who pairs her earbuds to her iPad, selects a Spotify playlist, and heads into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher and set out the breakfast things I’ll need to cook breakfast and she and her sister will need at the dining room table. When she’s done with her kitchen time, most days she heads off to find a book to read and anticipate food.
As for my younger teenager, she is a bit more like me in that she tends to need a bit of prying from her bed. She likes the sun streaming in over her and tends to look a lot like our cat who, usually by this time, has taken up her place in the sunshine beside the 14 year old. Depending on the day and what’s going on (and whether I need to get her up earlier than usual), I may have to wake her from her dreams. But most of the time, I at least get a slitted side-eye for my first greeting as I remind her to stretch and push herself up so she can begin the slow process of her morning routine. While hers is not quite as predictable as her older sister’s, I still anticipate her smiling face arriving in the living room and whatever ironic or witty quip with which she will greet me.
With the two of them arriving at the table, my day has officially begun and their presence provides me an obvious sense of joy and the three of us will perform our daily breakfast dance that has them pouring milks, carrying food to or plates from the table, and me checking all things on the stove and in the oven. There is a wonderful bit of predictability to these things and it signals the start to what comes next; school most days or creative endeavors, together or separately, on weekend days. Whatever the days look like, I have come to appreciate and anticipate their beginnings. How could I not when it involves time with these two amazing young women?