I like to start slowly in the mornings, to wake early and move quietly, thoughtfully. I like to savor my coffee and let my thoughts wander, to listen to the raucous racket of the birds and notice the feel of the still cool breeze as it slides through the open window. 

I’m a lover of the snooze button and favor waking in staccato, rising to awareness of the deep comfort of my bed and sinking back into its depths at a nine-minute interval. I love to scribble in my journal or read the words of writers who capture the meaning of life in their pens.

Mornings lend themselves to small joys and tiny comforts. Wide stretches and hot showers and steaming mugs cupped in our hands just so. They are for watching shadows brighten as they move across the kitchen table, highlighting the mundane beauty of half-eaten toast and spilled salt and the perfect geometry of a fork across a cheery plate…