The alarm rings from my son’s iPhone first thing in the morning, before the sun is even awake to shine. I open one eye begrudgingly, enough to reach for it under my pillow and swipe it to snooze. The next 10 minutes I lie there, breathing in the quiet air and restful eyes for as long as I can.
The alarm rings again and I think, I really need a cup of coffee.
Not yet, however, as I now have to fumble through the haphazard process of getting ready while still half asleep and rush our way out the door. Not to forget gloves and scarfs and hats and zipped up coats, no one else bothered by the cold but me. Someone remind me again why I say I like winter, as the fierceness of the cold whips at my face.
And I think to myself as my breath freezes in midair, I really need a cup of coffee.
But first, back home, I need to pick up discarded coats and gloves. There are dishes to wash, beds to make, and the first toys to put away. Then, at long last.
I pour myself a cup of coffee.
With deadpan precision, the phone rings. After I hang up there, I remember I need to make another call. I glance in circles, forgetting where I placed my cup. It doesn’t matter, because my participation in a game of Candy Land has been requested. Then coloring and a search for Mickey Mouse on YouTube.
Finally, I take a drink.
I sigh and think to myself, I really need a cup of warm coffee.