Tuesday, March 7, 2017

a routine of GRATITUDE

The bags were heavy.  I was carrying my purse, (that is much like hauling a load of bricks around my neck), my bag from work, a laptop, two heavy bags of groceries and a jug of almond milk. Teetering on the first step under the weight of the load I thought,  It's all about core strength. 'Got none. Get up these steps.  Then I adjusted the load, evening out the weight from hand to hand.  Grunting and pure grit got me up those steps.

With the food put away.  I thought about the morning.  Coffee.  Fill the decanter.  Nearly empty. Not enough for a cup.  I saw a pound somewhere. The cupboards opened and slammed  in a fury.  Where is it?  I don't see it anywhere.  'Should have bought some.  Just in case.  My mind whirled and swirled in the vortex of panic. Ahhh, no coffee.  Can't be. Store's closed. The search continues.

I dip the stainless coffee spoon into the aromatic grounds measuring two heaping spoonfuls. The water hisses.  The microwave beeps.  Two steps to retrieve the almonds milk warmed.  Then the electric kettle clicks and the water is poured into the tube holding the coffee until the liquid reaches the top.  With chopstick near, I stir the mix, let it sit for a varied amount of time.  Sometime seconds or sometime minutes.  This is a gauge of patience or how late I am running in the morning. Then I use a plunger in the tube to force the liquid passed the grounds and into the mug.

The device is engineered for small hands whirrs with the push of a button.  I remember the first time I tried the frother.  It did nothing.  My husband interceded and showed me how I had to aerate the milk from bottom to top and back and forth until I got the right amount of creaminess.  Now I am a pro. The white billowy froth seems to sit atop the coffee.

I am strangely grateful for this routine every morning.  Each step is a delicate orchestration.  With a sprinkle of cinnamon, I grab the pottery mug (a gift from my late husband) and I sit, breathe and watch the birds.  Morning gratitude begins with a prayer and a homemade latte.  All is right with the world, when there is coffee in the house.

1 comment:

Elisabeth Ellington said...

That final line made me smile. Really a beautifully written post about the movements of our daily routines. "Delicate orchestration"--lovely phrasing.