So let's look at it. What is ordinary?
This morning, it's waking up. The day is still black, the house is cold, and I can't find my slippers. While the coffee brews I head to the bathroom. It's quiet except for the fans whirling, a small sound from each bedroom. A few dark minutes pass. I walk back to the kitchen. Opening the cupboard I glance across the shelves and find my cup. Pour my coffee. Add my Creamer.
Ordinary. I do this every day.
Sitting on the floor in my closet, coffee cup resting at my lips, I ponder the word "ordinary." And I notice. I notice that my lips fit comfortably just under the slight curve at the top of my cup. I notice the cold, smooth surface contrasted with the warmth in my hands.
I hear the fan in my bedroom. It's soothing, that sound. Constant. Steady. A bird begins to chirp outside. As I listen I wonder if it's asking," Are you up yet? Can you get up now? I'm awake." Like when my children were young and ready to take on the day.
What else do I hear? The occassional car passing by. People, neighbours, heading to work I imagine. It's early, poor souls.
Outside my window the dark indigo sky begins to lighten. Ever so slowly. The hue changes to a deep violet and now a periwinkle. The trees are not shadow-shapes anymore. The tall one across the street even has a slight red tint at the end of each branch. It's strong trunk, gray-brown. The white shutters on the neighbour's windows show off a coral tint. The sun is rising, the sky is bluer now.
More birds are singing, insisting it's time to get up. A robin is hopping on the green of my lawn. Her rusty, red breast bobbing up and down as she bloop, bloop, bloops across. Another robin joins her. They rise together, twirl in the air, land, and hop their separate ways.
And so my ordinary day begins.
Perhaps it's not so ordinary after all.
Post script: After completing this I walked back to my kitchen. The air was filled with the scent of fresh baked bread. I took a moment to soak it in. And smiled.
