this morning

My apartment is quiet. The sun is flooding in through the kitchen window and the entire world smells like coffee as far as I'm concerned. Every morning I get up and drag myself to the kitchen table. I make a pot of coffee. I crack open my journal. I stare out the window. I write. I reflect. I feel happy. It's my morning ritual. A big blue sky reaches gently down toward the hills, trees and stacks of houses that seem neither congested nor convoluted stand tall to meet it. Sunset Blvd hums below me. At the right angle I can see the Hollywood sign. Every morning I wake up, inhale some coffee, journal out the cluttered dreams and feelings that floated in with the daylight, and I feel thankful. I'd never found much in the way of rituals. I never imagined I'd be sitting here.

My life has always been haphazard, often dependent on someone else's schedule, dictated by someone else's desires. I went years without washing my face before bed because I usually fell asleep on the couch. I hadn't had a steady wake up time in my entire adult life. And now here I am sitting down in the same place at the same time every morning, feeling awake and centered. There's no one coaxing me back to bed. There's no one getting in the way of writing. I am alone and it feels amazing. It's in these early mornings that I realize that I probably can create the life I want. Hop to it, Lollipop.