my favorite moment

photo credit: my older daughter

The other morning, quite by accident, I discovered my favorite moment of the entire day. 

It was Sunday, I think, and I was standing in the kitchen pouring my first cup of coffee.  My husband was leaning against the island, chatting with me. The kids still in bed, the house was quiet, clean. I’d lit candles, a fire burned in the woodstove, and outside rain clouds threatened. Already, I’d gone on a run, lifted weights, and showered. Dressed, with my eyes in, make-up on, and hair scrunched, I felt both gloriously wide awake and luxuriously relaxed.

As I screwed on the lid of my thermal mug, I sighed happily. “This is the best part of the whole day.”

As soon as I said it, I realized just how true it was. All the hard stuff was done and now I got to enjoy my coffee. Visit with my husband. Catch up on computer stuff. Eat.

There are lots of other happy moments throughout the day — all of us lingering at the table after supper, talking sput; shooing the kids off to bed and cuddling on the sofa with my husband to watch a show; burrowing deep into a writing project (or rather, finishing a writing project); drinking tea on the porch with a friend — but there’s nothing quite like the deep satisfaction of a dreaded task completed mixed with the anticipation of that first cup of coffee and it’s-a-new-day buzz.

It really is the best. 

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (11.18.19), the quotidian (11.16.15), in my kitchen: noon, the quotidian (11.18.13), lemony lentil goodness, three things.


    • katie

      Man, I love running so much. And even so, the feeling of being done with a run is one of the best parts of it all! Especially in the morning. The running is one thing, but you got up and lifted weights too?! That is beyond my capacity in the morning. Kudos to you!

        • katie

          You dread it, yet you do it. Now don’t go underselling yourself! (I would totally downplay it too (if I could do it. hah!)) But really though, your next post is one about Kate Baer’s poems. And I bet we can both learn something from those about this.

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