cardamom.

Like I said, I don’t usually write in the morning. But I woke up to the alarm clock blaring NPR and it felt like there was so much time and nothing to fill it with but writing.

Last night, I made a little dent on each of my end-of-year goals. I finished a book. I ran 4 miles. I wrote a blog post. I did 10 minutes of freewriting and made a list of creative projects and ideas. It felt amazing, like the night stretched on for days. Maybe that’s why I woke up itching to make more progress.

Habit-forming is such a trendy topic, and I’m especially guilty of falling down the deep dark hole of self-help articles and life-hacks and how-to-be-better books. I have some opinion on all of that, but I don’t know what it is exactly, other than feeling something weary of it.

It rained and rained yesterday, and now it’s cloudy and cool. The light is just coming up but not breaking through the clouds. Rat-cat is sleeping in the open window. Jacob is sleeping in the bedroom. I’m drinking a cup of coffee that is half Peet’s and half Turkish coffee I found in the back of the cupboard, because the bag of Peet’s was mostly empty. It tastes like cardamom.

This is really the first year of my life that I’ve been a morning person, and I can’t explain it. I can’t imagine going back. Mostly because I can’t imagine living in a world now where I don’t have time to cook and eat a giant breakfast. Eggs, peppers and bok choy yesterday. Steel cut oats with raisins, butternut squash and pecans this morning. It’s my favorite meal.

But the time always fades. I need to brush my teeth, get dressed, pack up my bike, put in my contacts, clean the litterbox, wash the dishes. Everyday life creeps in over and over, the quotidien, like the tide. Everything is washed clean in the waves and the rising sun.