Zen and the Art of Breakfast Borritos
Here smack dab in the middle of summer, fate (i.e. work scheduling) has given the mornings to me and accepted days and nights as an acceptable offering. I will once again find stability in breakfast. Now with the addition of coffee on front porch, I set my face like flint knowing that the help that I’ll need has already been promised and delivered.
I hold my breath tight in my chest, waiting for the day to begin–not looking forward to taking the plunge once again after a week of adventure miles from home. Change is hard. Although, like with most things they get better with practice. Still, my will rebels against the suggestion of routine change regardless of whether it’s for the better or even for the best.
This is the way of the school schedule. When the dust settles and most have flown south for the summer, I am left to fill the void with morning dance parties in my bedroom and omelets garnished with borrowed parmesan. Exhale. Who knows what new adventures in (pseudo-)independence this day holds.