Starting Over, Every Day

After all the noise of the day, the evening extends into dawn and the morning comes with the quiet we’ve been waiting for.

The air is still. Owls hoot, but we cannot find them on the trees. And so we relax into the sounds of the morning, the cool air, quiet birdsong, the shifting of the sky from pink to butter to white to blue.

Clouds move swiftly across the sky. Trees flutter. The walk to the curb to collect the newspaper is a contemplative one – short, sweet, silent. It’s easy to meditate in the morning, which is probably why 80% of the clearing work happens when you meditate mid-day.

There is a Jewish prayer for the morning that thanks God for restoring one’s soul after its departure the night prior. Very mystical and surreal, but the idea that each morning it is as if we are born anew is a powerful one and one that we should not dismiss as too poetic to be real.

Today, Eliana and I climbed on our bikes to whisk through the neighborhood before cars raced up and down our streets and before we had anywhere to be. It was just me and my girl, a perfect pair, the eloquence of love and motion and early morning dawning.

She pointed out houses she liked and houses she didn’t like and the purple shutters which gave a tired, old house new life. She talked about walks taken and things noticed. She talked and talked and I listened and listened because all that mattered was her and me and the stillness of a new day and the promise of the two of us linked forever by soul and by love.

She talked so that I would listen. I listened so that she would talk. The cadence of my daughter’s voice is a music I’ve always known but discover anew every time she speaks.

And the ease of the morning – everything is beautiful, everyone is happy, anything is possible.

The boys were at home watching TV or playing on the iPad or eating breakfast fixed by Dan. The house was still. Rooms were not entirely messy. The day stretched its legs the way we do when first climbing from bed.

That’s the way a day should start.

Not rushed. Not fast. Not pushed to happen.

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