Coffee Thoughts on Sunday Morning

 

I delicately ran from the bathroom, where I was straightening the frizz out of my hair for church, to the kitchen, lest my tea kettle scream and wake up the house, thereby, interrupting my moments of quiet. Moms know that these quiet moments before the chaos are valuable, and we guard them, even if it means learning to do some stealthy ballet leaps to quiet the tea kettle.

Some mornings when I have a few moments of stillness, I relish the sound of the hot water as it pour over the coffee grounds in my pour-over cup, and then makes a gentle splash to the coffee waiting in the mug. If you focus on the sound and the way the coffee in the pour-over cup foams before dripping down, there’s something a bit zen-like in it.

It’s chilly this morning, and my feet are freezing, but there’s not a chance that I’m risking waking anyone just so I can be comfortable. There’s a blanket in here somewhere…

I have moved a lot. And I’d like to think that I carry a piece of each of those places with me. This also, I believe, contributes to the feeling that there isn’t a place that quite feels like home. I was talking to a virtual friend about this the other day – Maybe as we get older, the feeling of home is no longer something that we can find.

We seem to live more online than in the physical world. Perhaps that aggravates our search for home and belonging. When we belong everywhere, can we really find belonging in one physical location? I delight in having friends and acquaintances all over the world, but what about in my small speck of the map? What about the place where I live day to day? What about here? How can we feel more at home right where we are?

Another blog post for another day, perhaps, as my thoughts have been interrupting by tiny voices in the next room.

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