Monday, October 26, 2015

Smells of Fall

The kitchen is quiet in the morning. Soft, warm morning sunshine joins me at the table as I blink sleep away. My man leans over my shoulder with a steaming ceramic bowl. He layered my oatmeal with cinnamon and honey, knowing that, even bleary-eyed and not awake, I have a sweet tooth.

Mondays feel heavy. They come regularly and uncalled for, barging into a perfectly happy weekend like that one cousin who always feels unattended to. Screaming and dancing for attention. Mondays always seem like a whirlwind; full of meetings and phone calls, new projects and urgent problems born over the weekend that all those bright, cheerful morning people love to bring to your attention before you've gotten halfway through that emergency latte.

This job is demanding and exhilarating. I constantly have to make decisions, speak in front of audiences, and manage my 100-person staff. It's big and exciting, difficult and challenging. I love it. But I wake up slow.

He knows this. And stirs a pot of warm cider on the stove for our commute to work. He adds honey and spices to it, filling the little kitchen with cozy smells of Fall.

This Monday feels heavy, but it tastes like love. 

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