First Cup

My morning ritual has changed through the years. I used to roll out of bed, pull on my running clothes and, in minutes, be chugging along outside, almost unaware of what hit me.

Now my days start in a less, a-hem, active way. I sit with this machine in my lap and wait for my first cup of tea. This is not a passive activity. First, I fill the electric kettle, then I wait for the familiar roaring crescendo that tells me the water is boiling.

What a sound that is! The sound of comfort and covers — the sound of anticipation.

Soon the tea will brew and I'll be holding a warm mug of it in my hands. Soon my eyes will be fully open.

And speaking of tea, I'm writing this in real time.

The tea is ready. The day has begun.