Sunday Morning Coffee
I haven’t slept in since 2003.
Okay there were a few mornings in recent years where the Grandfather clock struck 7 before the children stirred and I thought a miracle had happened. But I don’t mind it so much. ’03 brought us our first baby. I can recall darting out of bed at all hours like some form of autonomic response answering to infant needs―the slumber of sleep so heavy that it obscured vision and eclipsed all thought under a rush of spiked blood pressure.
With development came a return towards a sense of normalcy. First it was the chirping years: A phase which introduced sleeping through the night and ushered in the era of chatter. Those sweetly quiet babbles of babies typically audible at the first sign of morning light. Hatchlings do the same―hungry for that early worm, eager to start the day. The awakening response, gentle but clear, always brought a smile to my face for it was an affirmation that everything about the new day was all right. Nowadays the pitter patter of children’s feet signals bedside turbulence is near. The pounce of wee Walkers not only hastens consciousness, it announces the weekend as they shuffle under the covers wedging Mrs. W and I to the far edges of the bed. I don’t know what a Saturday or Sunday morning is like without our natural 6 o’clock alarms.
Nick Francis is an old school broadcaster dedicated to seamlessly weaving music
styles and genres in a blend where mood, timbre and the art of segue are
paramount. His hand-picked selections are evocative, contemplative and visual
in the context of a complementary soundtrack that won’t invade or override; it’s
simply flowing along with you. Quietmusic is a weekend staple in our house, so
much so that the kids now request it. You may find that “turning up the quiet” is a
welcome audio source in your home too. ―Brooks Walker
Since weekend days start early in my house I’ve seized the opportunity to enjoy the gentle nature of dawn. This is a time between thought and intention, a space where plans emerge or not before the bright sun grips the day. Sundays are especially conducive to this leisure. In fact I’ve made it a family resolution for 2013; to dial it back on the seventh day. Like many American families, the weekends are relegated to catching up with an array of tasks and chores―casualties from the weekly drill. I confessed to my wife that I often hit the ground on Mondays running on empty, wondering what happened to the weekend.
Sunday morning coffee is my answer. Despite its obvious perk, there’s a soothing quality to a cup of fresh-brewed inspiration. The aromatic earthy taste, the warmth of a mug in the hands, the quiet glance to your spouse that conveys, “How are you today, did you sleep well?” Paired with some good music and a little appetizing nibble, it primes the day for recharging and perhaps invites a little whimsy. All that’s required is to let go and let be.
And those little two-legged alarm clocks in the house? I’ll relish their early call while I can.
I know the day will come when independence prevails, that my kids will no longer visit for cuddles and they’ll snooze in their own beds long after I rise. How the tables will turn when I’m the one rousing them to the table for breakfast!
I just hope they won’t mind if I redefine their notion of sleeping in.