Morning Chore

Tip, tip, tip. I hear quiet footsteps on the wood floor and know what’s coming.

“I’m going to make COFFEE,” my niece squeals.

I open one eye and see bright brown eyes, a smile as big as her face, and curly, light brown hair swirled all about her tiny head. At five, my  niece is so petite that her face is barely above eye level when I am horizontal on my bed. I wish she would sleep past 7 a.m. (6 a.m. on weekends). But, she is an eager helper and as she bounds down the stairs, I marvel that she thinks it is a privilege to help me make coffee.

It's hard to hold onto that childhood ability to find joy in small things, especially ones that require work. But on a really rotten day, carving out a sliver of time for a small thing you enjoy is a great pick-me-up. That's why I love coffee shops. While I'm there, even if just long enough to order a drip coffee, it's all about the coffee and whatever I find inside . . . whether it's a brief conversation with a friendly stranger, a new display of art, or a seat by the window, watching the world go by.