Sunday morning.

My favorite morning.

As the steam rises out the top of my Bialetti I know the coffee is ready.  I slowly pour it into my favorite mug, grab a cookie out of the deep freeze, head down the stairs, pick up an unread National Geographic and head out onto the deck plopping myself into my oh so comfy lounger.

It’s 7:05 now and I can see the sun starting to peak out above the tops of buildings.  Breaking through but not yet.  Still only a radiant orange heralding the scorching day to come.  As I look out I hear the quiet sounds of morning.  The fountain starting up.  One bird call, then another, then another.  The breeze rustling the palm fronds.  The cacophony of birds increases, the sounds grow louder, busier, more dissonant.

It seems everything and everyone is at the starting line, with places to go and a day to organize.  But not yet.  Not now.  In this moment – just me, the birds, and the solitary neighborhood cat on my lap.  All enjoying the peaceful bliss of a quiet morning before the day sets off.  It doesn’t last long.  It never does.  Sure enough …

Ping.  1 new message.  Pribing pribing.  3 new notifications.  “Dad, have you seen my cleats?”  Today’s headlines on the BBC … “Alex is a taxi on the way?”  … and so starts another day.

My beautiful Sunday morning, I enjoyed you while I could.

Till next Sunday.