Happy Monday dear friends! I'm feeling rested and cautiously enthusiastic about the upcoming week, for no particular reason other than I spent a blissfully lazy weekend here in the city. It was precisely what the doctor ordered, after being so transient for so many months, just slowing down, unwinding and doing exactly what my little heart desired (which was a whole lot of nothing).
Mornings have become my favorite time of day again. I have always considered myself the consummate night owl, someone who relishes a 9pm dinner reservation and can happily dance in a crowded bar into the wee hours of the night (pre-covid, naturally). But when I first moved to the city, I learned to appreciate mornings. Still a novice when it came to public transportation, I used to build in excessive amounts of time for my daily commute in anticipation of any unforeseen delay that never really seemed to arise. I found myself ridiculously early for work so to eat up time I would sit in Starbucks enjoying the pumpkin spice lattes I still consumed, and would cocoon myself in the morning rush around me. I loved it. But, as so often happens when you live in one place for an extended period, you become complacent. Things that once enchant you, become commonplace and mundane. My morning routine changed, my commute changed and I lost all appreciation for morning. But as the temperatures begin to drop and the flexibility in my routine increases, I have remembered the pure bliss of the early hours. My apartment now offers the stillness I once internally felt amongst the crowds of commuters seeking their daily caffeine fix. As our lives trickle back to the minor comforts of normalcy, let us become reintroduced to all the beauty we began to take for granted.
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