Outside a foggy haze has draped itself allowing a pink smudge of light. It is that light that I count on however dim as I sipped my latte foaming with almond milk and establish a new morning routine as I write. The house is quiet. I swear I can hear the flames flicker from the wood stove. I have stirred the dog into wanting to begin his day. I let him out and soon he barks to come in. Anticipating his routine, I expect that Rex will jump onto my lap, then I will have to juggle the computer and an oversized dog onto my lap at the same time. It doesn't happen. Instead he goes back to bed where he can rest his head on the pillow pretending to be human.
For the past five months, I have inched my way toward health. A champion at losing and gaining weight again and again. Edging toward 60, I am determined to make these changes take hold. Daily long walks in the thick of the forest or along the ever-changing sea sustain me on this journey. This morning my goal was to wake early between darkness and dawn and write. One more habit to make me whole.
It turns out, I can learn from Rex who has a predictable routine, but not always. He has a gentle predictability that can run off course now and again like on this easy Sunday morning. That is O.K. Tomorrow morning a week day with a certainty, Rex will be on my lap while I steady a computer atop the both of us and write. Thinking about this makes me happy.
I have learned a lot from Rex.