Relax, it’s Friday! The little lie: Dessert has to entertain the tongue.
Dessert. Dessert on the day. Like a cherry plopped lazily on top of twisted, whipped cream as it slides down the sugary, white mountain. Relaxed, diffused, released.
My first deep exhale everyday, happens as I step onto my back patio, cup of coffee in hand, balanced to perfection with unsweetened, vanilla almond milk. I place my Bible and journal on the patio table and sink into a chair. The sun’s already risen, but barely slicing through the ancient trees that frame my backyard. Brave snoops the perimeter of the fence for errant squirrels before settling on my feet with his own, “hufff.”
My spiral journal collects the hustle of yesterday. It reminds me of the possibilities of today. As I write, I pray, and peace wafts from the pages. It’s a deep, cathartic stretch of my mind, like yoga.
Forget the caffeine. Coffee is the common denominator, the secret ingredient in my daily delights. From the first sip in the morning sun, to the mid-day writing session in my “office.” I work all day long, anticipating my chance to really work. Finally, at the sun’s highest peak, I pour my fourth cup of coffee from the second urn from the left at Panera Bread.
I top my decaf with an inch of hazelnut, a dash of two percent and settle into a straight back wooden chair. Dessert on the day. I’ll leave the pastries and succulent chocolates for those who mistakenly think dessert must entertain the tongue. I gaze at my computer screen and wait for creativity to strike. Sometimes I’ll pluck thoughts from my journal or prayers that morning. Suddenly, if I’m lucky, words pour unprovoked from my fingers. A story rises, filling me with the satisfaction of a perfectly baked confection.
The theme continues through the evening. Especially at my parent’s home, with other devoted coffee lovers, the night winds down to the put-put of the percolator. Daddy and I sink, two adults now, into bulky chairs. Or, Mom and I cuddle on the sofa with warm mugs of something (she prefers hot chocolate or tea). Maybe there’s music, maybe some cards, but always a hush, a sigh and release. The sun sinks this time, over the same edge of the fence where it announced the morning.
It’s amazing to tell you this story and realize that I still feel stressed sometimes. How does that happen with so many impromptu opportunities to exhale?
