I walk down the stairs for a cup of tea and piece of toast. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I gaze out at the dark morning, light not yet rising over the horizon. Whenever I come home; that is the other home I have with my family, aside from the one I have in London with my husband, I sleep and wake early. This is mostly due to the time difference, and the jet lag, but also taking into consideration that I am tucked away in the countryside where the only glittering lights one sees at night are the stars.
I also have a tendancy to wake periodically throughout the night, tossing and turning or just blindly making my way down the stairs to the bathroom. For my recent trip to the bathroom, Logan accompanies me. He wakes me in the darkness with “I need to pee!” We stumble hand in hand down the stairs, tip-toeing best we can so as not to wake anyone. My grandmother’s oxygen machine drones on in the background like a bear snoring during hybernation. The light shocking our eyes, we quickly take turns and then headed back up the stairs. I tuck Logan into bed, but not until after his request for a hug and a kiss. I lie awake and wonder when the sun will break through the night sky, giving me permission to officially wake. Logan begins to grind his teeth and I know he has fallen back asleep. I continue to lie awake, feeling happy to be here but impatient to wake.
So I do. I decide to be awake. I turn the covers back off my legs, and head back down the stairs.
I’m careful to watch the kettle and whisk it off the stove before it whistles. I know my grandpa will be up soon and wonder whether I will hear his slippers scuffle over the wood floor behind me before the kettle rumbles like my already hungry stomach. The toast pops up and I welcome the smell of the butter melting into the hot and crisp bread. I search around for the avocado with only the light bulb in the back corner of the fridge, and spread it freely onto the newly melted, buttered toast. With my tea in one hand and my toast in the other, I head out to the dining room and settle down in the dark to eat in silence as the world slowly begins to wake around me.
Still feeling impatient, I head back up the stairs with my tea, toast resting in my now full belly, and head into the room across the hall from where Logan sleeps. I sit on the floor, legs crossed, with my tea, facing the window where the sun begins to shine through as it rises over the horizon of freshly cut fields and partially bare trees, leaves lost in the autumn winds. The great maple in the front yard begins to burn, the oranges and yellows are on fire in the morning sun. I sit quietly and contemplate just being here, in this moment, as the sun comes sneaking into the window. The morning light, fresh on my face. The world waking with me.
I call Ali on the computer to see how his day has gone in London and bring him into my Michigan morning. As we talk, I hear Logan stirring in the other room. “Hey, be quiet,” he yells from the other room and then decides to come in to see who I am talking to. We take turns talking to Ali and then Logan decides it’s too early to be awake and asks me to come lay with him for ‘this manies,’ he holds up two fingers and after I climb up next to him, I discover that this is only two mintues and he sits up ready for the day. He is equipped with more energy than I will have for the rest of the morning.
We head back into the other room to say one last good day to Ali, I snap a photo for my memory of the morning sunrise and Logan and I head downstairs. Hand in hand. Ready for the world. And all that comes in it.