The Same Mundane Coffee

At 6 AM the alarm blares the same tune it has for over a decade....

Much like the day before, it's riddled with repetitiveness, and the mundaneness of routine.

My dreary body shuffles its way out of the soft and warm bed to start what one might hope will be a day of productivity.

I take what little energy that my bones can muster and make my way to the kitchen. After fumbling the light switch, I managed to flip it on while shielding my eyes from the piercing brightness. After the brief adjustment period to the land of the living, I reach for the coffee maker. The same black machine, same beans, and same glass pot with a faded chip in the handle. I measure the beans with ease, and gratitude as I decide in the moment to make the most out of today's ordinary routine. As the coffee gurgles, the same rich smell begins to fill the air. It is a soft and sweet smell.

It carries a comforting promise of success to the start of the day.

I pour myself a glass.

Today’s coffee looks perfect. The creaminess of the foam resting on top of the mug looks almost like a cloud forming in an afternoon sky.

It’s dark, but not murky.

It’s fresh and light.

The warmth of each sip brings comfort and renewal. Nothing life changing. It isn't some grand revelation to usher in a renaissance.

It’s just peace. A comforting sensation of familiarity.

I carry my mug to the table and sit. I don’t open my phone. I just take in the quietness and serenity of the stillness of the day. I watch the reflections of the lights on the ground in stillness. The weariness that I awoke to seems further away. My shoulders have relaxed more and I feel at ease. I am more confident in today’s success, and the adventures that await. It will be full of usual tasks, but somehow the same tasks don't seem quite as daunting.

Usually, I would rush to the news, weather, or the media to find stories for the day. Today I decided in quietness. The difference is small, to someone else it would seem invisible. To me, quietness is the permission of mental solitude.

As I sit longer than usual in my usual spot, with my usual table, and the usual cup of coffee, the house still sleeps around me. I turn to look outside and the earth is still. It rests in the pre-sunrise hues waiting to begin another day. Beneath the grey sky, a bird begins to chirp signaling the awakening of the world around me.

Each day with similarities, but still, each with its own possibilities.

When my mug is empty, I rinse it in the sink. It is time to finish my usual routine. I shower, dress, and continue my daily chores as the time nears for me to leave. My heart is light and I am ready for today.

As I pull out of the driveway, the sky begins to brighten. I crack my window and let the fresh air flow through the car. The memory of the start of my day gives way to the freshness of the present.

Today will be like yesterday, and tomorrow will be like today, but I am reminded that I can still choose ease in the repetition.

So for now, I will continue my mornings with the same mundane coffee.

With the same routine.

With the same smile promising the start of the day, as well as the end of one.

So that tomorrow I may begin another.