Morning Coffee

Today’s coffee is different.

It tastes different, though it is the same coffee I have had for two months. The way it goes down feels different. Even the process of making it felt new. Breakfast was different too. Down to the plate I used.

Waking up was odd because we got to sleep in today, the girl and I. It felt like the first time I woke up with her, feeling like the world had shifted so completely and excitedly. The pain that courses through my spine on a daily basis as I stand from the bed was duller than normal. I stood straight up, not needing thirty minutes to adjust myself.

Seeing the clouds outside as I peeled away the curtain didn’t carry its usual weight of “Ugh, it’s raining.” I was just happy the room was so bright. And as its corners were illuminated, I admired the newly mopped floor and the empty sink. I saw that the front room was no longer in disarray. Had it ever been? That memory is so far from me now, I feel like that room has never looked like anything but how it looks to me right now.

I wandered into the girl’s room carrying lit sage, as I somehow felt that sage was necessary. Had her room ever been any different? Photos from the last two years cycled through my mind but they were so blurred, I felt like my brain must have made them up. I stared into the drawings she had littered my walls with and I felt like they were newer, more vibrant than ever before. They lit the rooms of the house all on their own.

I stepped into my bathroom to find it still and warm. Odd for this time of year. But with a sense of renewal pouring into the open window. A spring air to clear out whatever happened here. What did happen here? I don’t think about it anymore. I don’t think about the past like that anymore.

Finished with the sage, I sat beside Scar with my coffee, my tarot cards, and my phone. Tunes. They all sounded like the first time I heard them. My cards felt like the first time I held them. What was going on?

Life. My life was going on. IS going on. After the tumultuous nature of the last few years, I feel like I am living again. I have worked so hard the past few months to battle demons and toxicity in my life. I battled autism and the bureaucracy that goes along with it. I battled the power that people held over my life and I won, now free of their pain. I brought hope into my life over and over the past few weeks in all arenas. I chose hope over fear and escapism. I chose to go home before midnight and write my heart out until I passed out on the keyboard. I chose to focus on the intentions I had for a better life. For me and for Scar.

I have the pieces in place for once. Good friends, good family, good goals. Happiness abounds and progress chugs along at a steady pace.

Today, the coffee tasted different; but I am already used to the taste.

I couldn’t imagine it tasting any other way.


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