Mornings are my favorite time of day.
I like waking up to dim morning light peeking through my window slats. I stay in bed for a few minutes, reveling in the warmth of the blankets bundled around me. Eventually, the need for my day to begin presses against my consciousness, so I get up and make my bed.
Brushing my teeth, cleaning my retainer, and peeing are the first activities I do every morning. Afterwards, I head to my writing table. I start up both my desktop and my laptop and prepare myself for tackling the day’s work.
I love these first few hours before the morning melds into noon. It’s just me, my pencil (or keyboard), my thoughts, and the morning.
Coffee becomes a priority about an hour after I wake up. The sound of the coffee machine burbling away has now become as integral to my routine as that initial burst of caffeine. The feeling of a warm mug of coffee in my hands, even if it is a blazing-hot summer day, is an utter joy to me.
The solitude of it all is magnificent.
The phrase “being alone” has some unfair connotations to it. People equate being alone with being lonely.
I think being alone gives you time and space to think properly. The focus you lose when people are around you, taking up your attention, is sharpened when you are by yourself. My head clutters up very easily with runaway trains of thought and daydreams, so being alone lets me tidy up my mind.
Or, on occasion, lets me take a ride on one of those trains.
My mornings aren’t always spent in the solace of solitude. And if that’s the case, I just make do.
But when I get the chance, I enjoy being alone in the morning.