It's early morning and for many, the day hasn't begun. For a few of us, it is that most cherished instant of the day, a split second of revered quiet, where the only relationship you have is with your coffee and the news. It is just before that green flash that means it is "go time." But "go time" for me was hours ago.
I sit contemplatively now, lost in my thoughts, in this place with which I have such a rich history. It's been years since I enjoyed the early solitude of this darkened corner of the cafe where I can observe the energy as it crescendos into the morning. The dark green walls envelop me, and from my perch, I have the advantage of living between worlds, the in and the out.
It has been a morning of reflection that started hours before dawn when an unexpected mist hung just outside my door. I awoke to my infrequent alarm accustomed as I now am to waking to the natural rhythms of my body.
Leaving the house, I remembered the dread that comes with a drive to this unfavored destination and the required resolve to put one foot in front of the other. Walking through the doors felt like a poke to a still tender bruise, and I traveled back to those other early mornings preceding this one. I know in my heart that this is a self-induced panic, authentic nonetheless, coming from a real place of understanding. I think of the times I have spent in halls such as these as a spectator, witness, and patient. My eyes well more at the remembrances of those last visits with him than at any of the other memories. Internally my empty belly grumbles as I outwardly smile and greet the woman in the elevator and make my way to my appointment.
That was the start of my day - hours before I sat in this fresh green space and looked towards that man with the matching hair. My pace now matches my heart, slow and steady, as I reset the cadence for the rest of my day.