The morning

I’m up early as usual.

My alarm is set for 6.30am but I mostly wake up before, switch the alarm off and get up.

I move slowly and quietly so as not to disturb my wife in bed beside me or the dog in its bed on the floor.

I’ve been an early riser all my life. I believe I inherited the trait from my father as he did from his father before him.

Aside from the two or three days a week I don’t work I’m out the door on my way to work soon after getting up.

Whether I’m on a train, walking or driving, this early morning period between waking and working has become something sacred for me.

There is a solitude in this pause between potential and actuality. A moment when the day is still gestating, pregnant with potential.

It is a time for contemplation. Nothing fancy. Whatever arises. Where to buy new work shoes. Worry about my family. Where to buy lunch. Take a photo of a tree.

I’m sitting in my car in a supermarket car park having failed to buy any lunch due to the clearance shelf being bare.

I watch the sky and people coming and going. I consider reading a couple of pages of my book.

I decide to simply sit and listen to the ambient traffic noise before buying a second coffee in addition to the one I have already drunk on the drive here.

I enjoy a coffee as I start my shift counting medication.