I am not a morning person. I stumble from bed, blurry and rumbled no matter how much sleep I managed to get the night before. Having children has not improved this state of being. The first order of business is to get coffee into my body, ASAP. Most mornings H has made coffee for me even if he has already left to go to work or school. And on weekends it's a guarantee. But this morning, there was no coffee. And I was extra tired after a rather rough night with both R and P.
I groaned some kind of primitive sound and he hurried in..."I wanted to make you a French Press this morning." he said, hurrying to set things up. I repressed the urge to hit him with something because even in morning zombie mode I knew he meant to do something nice for me. You see, I love French Press coffee. It's hands down the best to brew a truly excellent cup of coffee. But it's also slow which is why I save French Press for afternoons and special occasions. I use French Press to enjoy a particularly nice blend of coffee or to make ice coffee. But never ever do I use it for the mornings. It takes way too long. It is not the fastest, most effective way to get coffee into my body (really the ideal thing would be an IV).
But this morning I just kind of leaned against the counter and watched R torment the kitten. As I waited for the water to boil, I made my breakfast in the soft morning light and listened as H sang silly songs to R while dancing with her in the living room. And then H poured the water into the press, and I wandered through the house to look in on the sleeping beasties, marveling at their still beauty, and the vulnerability of their temporary absence. These are all things that must be done in the slowness of time. There is no rushing through these moments.
As I pressed the lever slowly down through the water, pushing the grinds to the bottom, I thought that a lesson could be learned from this careful act. Life rushes by. My baby boy is going to be 12 next year. My girls are growing into these graceful, lovely creatures. Life is made up of moments both quiet and dramatic. It is too easy to lose those quiet ones. Too easy to rush through them. To easy to push forward with impatience, and to stumble right over them. And then there is the sadness that comes when we rush into things we should not rush into...knowing things too soon instead of waiting for the fullness of time.