How utterly ordinary this seems. Me, a cup of coffee, a dark early morning awake ahead of the sun… I could have slept in… if I could have slept in. lol I’m not even disappointed; I woke rested and uncertain of the time. By the time I had gotten up to pee and also found a means of checking the time, I was quite wide awake and feeling that a new day had begun. I tried to go back to bed, but that lasted only minutes; I was clearly awake. So. Coffee time. 😀

Once I had made a cup of coffee, I shut off the lights and opened the curtains, the better to see the changing light as day breaks. For now, all is dark and quiet. At home, in the heart of agriculture and rural industries, this is not a particularly early hour. There would be some traffic on the road and the highway, and evidence of businesses preparing to open, most cafes and coffee stops would already be bustling with folks heading to work, or places unknown – even on a Saturday, there’d be some traffic and people coming and going. (It’s not that early, just early enough to still be dark on a December morning.) Here? In a seaside tourist town? It may as well be deserted. Rarely, cars roll down the highway. I see few headlights pass by “out there” beyond the window, beyond the bay, where the highway follows the curves of the hills beyond. No house windows are lit up, yet. No sounds come from other rooms. It’s quiet. Dark, quiet, early, this is still a day filled with promise and not much else quite yet. It’s more than an hour until sun rise.

…Good cup of coffee…

I slept well and deeply last night, and my dreams were untroubled, and unremembered now. Easy night. I hope my Traveling Partner got some rest. I wish him well from afar. As it turns out, this coastal getaway ends up being largely wasted with regard to the primary reason for going in the first place, which was to give my partner room to work. He’s been in pain and not easily able to work at all. Fucking hell. How unfortunate – and how unfair! Nonetheless, this is also time that greatly benefits me directly, and my emotional wellness is bolstered and supported with it. Already paid for, so I make a point to enjoy it, to savor it, and to take advantage of it fully without any guilt or awkwardness. I help him by coming home feeling well and merry, far more than if I rush back anxiously – and wastefully. 🙂

I sip my coffee and reflect on the day ahead. This is my one day on the coast (on this trip) that is not to do with work in any way. I’m free to enjoy the day as I’d like, whatever that means. I don’t yet know. Walk on the beach? Prowl antique shops as yet unexplored? A leisurely brunch somewhere? Laze the day away reading books? Some of all those things? I don’t know. I relish the feeling of luxury that comes of a momentary recognition that if I wanted to, I could just go back to bed and get more sleep. My time is my own, and that feels quite lovely.

I sip my coffee and explore that feeling of luxury. It dawns on me (maybe not for the first time) what a real treat that feeling of my time being my own actually is. Human beings are social creatures. We work and play collaboratively. We create and make and labor in partnerships, teams, groups, and communities. We are industrious as global enterprises. We live as families. My love of solitude is the oddity, not the norm, and in all likelihood it’s a byproduct of my chaos and damage, my trauma, and the resulting lack of enjoyment I take from society, generally… probably. I know my Traveling Partner misses me deeply when I’m away, sometimes to the point of depression. I miss him, too, but… day-to-day, I often find myself missing… this. The solitude. The quiet that allows me more room to “hear myself think”. The stillness that becomes a beautiful space to write, or paint. The freedom to simply be – without disturbing or inconveniencing anyone else with my quirks or my anxiety. So, this morning I merrily raise my coffee mug to the dark sky beyond the window, as if to say “here’s to the luxury of a couple days of solitude!” – if I haven’t “earned” it, nonetheless, I sure do enjoy it. I’m grateful for a partnership sufficiently secure to permit it as often as I do get to enjoy it. I make a point to sit with that gratitude awhile, listening to the ocean waves as the tide comes in.

…This cup of coffee is finished. I make another. I see the note that I left for myself by the coffee machine. It says “go easy on the coffee, you’ll want to sleep later!” A reminder from me to myself. I often do drink too much coffee when I’m indulging myself with some getaway or when I’m camping. It rarely seems to be a problem, the way it definitely is when I’m home living a routine ordinary life of habit and calendar. I have no idea why there’s such a difference. Maybe there isn’t? Maybe it’s an illusion? I consider whether to spend more time on that, and decide it’s unimportant. I make another coffee and move on with my thoughts.

The sky begins to lighten, ever so slightly shifting toward a dark subtly blue gray. The cars on the highway begin to pass in occasional clusters. High tide is still a bit more than two hours away, and will occur well after sun rise, which is only an hour away now. For now, just the earliest hint of dawn appears. The specificity of the language we have to describe these experiences delights me. It’s somehow very telling of the importance to human primates of the coming of a new day, that we can so clearly describe its coming using words, in such detail.

On the highway, across the bay, I see taillights just stopped there. I know that spot – there’s a pull out right there, with access to the mudflats at low tide. There are a trio of large rocks jutting out of the bay near there. The spot is called (on the map) “Freedom Rock”. It’s too dark to go down to the bay from the highway, still. It’s also almost high tide; there’s no where to go (it’s covered with water). I see that car continue to sit, lights on, then shut off the lights. I imagine some other version of me – or some similar sort of individual – sitting there in their car, waiting for enough daylight to go for some walk. It seems familiar and reasonable, and the thought pleases me. I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. I wonder if they will be disappointed when daylight reveals the lack of any point in waiting at that spot? lol

The sky is just starting to evolve from the darkness of night to the dim light of dawn. Another few minutes, and it will be possible to take a picture without using night settings. Another cup of coffee will be consumed. My email account will sync and my app notifications will begin pinging me. Day will begin. I’m reminded to take my morning medications, and snarl quietly and not very seriously as I head over to the counter where I left them. “Aging sucks…”

I take time for yoga and meditation, then go downstairs to the breakfast bar adjacent to the lobby for a light bite of breakfast. I’m not overly eager to be out in the world, among people, so perhaps a sit down breakfast in a restaurant is not an ideal choice, this morning? No obligation to be fancy or lavish with my spending, and I’m pretty easily satisfied with a yogurt cup and a toasted English muffin. I turn my eyes toward the window just in time to see the horizon infused with shades of strawberry and peach… I jump to catch a shot of it, stubbing my toe painfully on the way…

A minute later and I’d have missed it altogether. The sky has returned to a rather featureless rainy day gray once again. Worth the stubbed toe. Worth 4 days in a hotel room. It was a gorgeous sight and the picture hardly captures it at all. I sip my coffee contemplating which pigments I would choose to capture that view on canvas. If I’d painted such a thing, in such vibrant colors, before seeing this view myself, I would hardly be surprised if someone else seeing that painting assumed I’d taken artistic liberties with the colors. lol

I sigh happily and finish my second cup of coffee, my yogurt, and my English muffin. My Traveling Partner pings me – he’s awake now too. It’s a new day. The sun has risen, though there’s no visible sign of it beside the daylight itself. I’ve still no particular idea what I’ll do with the day, and it has begun to rain softly. Antique stores and books are winning out over beach walks, presently, but the tide will begin to recede sometime after 09:00, plenty of time to consider walking on beaches later on.

Plan or no plan, I find myself ready to begin again. 😀