I slept very deeply through the night, and woke to the insistent beeping of the alarm in a state of serious confusion. First, I wasn’t sure what the beeping was. I also thought it was Saturday. Oh, right – Friday. No…wait… I started to get up, and wobbled with a moment of vertigo, and the awareness of arthritis pain. I sat down abruptly, dizzy, and waited a moment before trying the whole thing again – and now pretty sure it wasn’t Saturday, or Friday, but not sure what day it actually is as I lurch toward the bathroom stiffly.

Minutes later, I’m at least pretty sure it is a work day, and although I am sorting through things and getting my bearings, it is some additional time later before I am clear that it is Wednesday, definitely a work day, and I start to feel more or less actually awake. I have the nagging feeling I am still not on track…a certain sense that something is missing… a shower, yoga, meditation…what could be missing? I wander sort of randomly through my small apartment, puzzled. Standing in the open patio doorway, feeling the morning air filter in from the pre-dawn darkness, just breathing and taking it all in is when I notice… no coffee. I mean, not yet. I haven’t made it, is what I’m saying.

I haven’t been awake all that long, it’s entirely reasonable that I don’t have coffee in front of me, at the moment I realize the lack. It is nonetheless reassuring to put that ‘something’s missing’ feeling to rest. The last couple mornings I have felt a bit more sluggish and slow to wake than usual. This morning was more intense still. I wonder for a moment what’s up with that, and wonder about the changing season and day length, and how much it may affect such things. Over time I have learned that one good response to confusion, particularly upon waking, is to slow down and take my time getting my bearings – avoiding making important decisions that require immediate action is a good idea, too. lol I eventually sort things out, given the time, and patience with myself. (I’m a bit disappointed it isn’t already Friday…but since I have plans after work, I’m also quite pleased not to have missed out on Wednesday!)

Last night was quite a treat. I sip my coffee (now prepared, and in front of me) and linger over my recollections of the cherished time spent with my traveling partner. He will indeed be traveling soon, and I won’t see him for days – may not hear much from him either, knowing he will be quite busy seeing the world from another vantage point. I don’t tend to take that personally, or worry overmuch when he is away. He’s a grown, capable man with a great deal of experience, prepared for most things. I could while away some unpleasant hours stressed out about the statistical chances of plane crashes, or violent crime, but it’s not a healthy pass time, and quite unproductive; whatever the far-reaching odds of misfortune, in real life generally it is more likely than not that everything will be just fine. He’s very considerate, when he travels, about things like notes letting me know he arrived here or there safely, so there’s not much to worry about. Hell – in any worst case scenario, I always come back to the awareness that for each of us our mortal time is too brief, anyway, and known to be finite. I let my mind be at ease, and welcome him home with joy every time he is away. There are verbs involved, and I prefer to choose other verbs than ‘panicking’ ‘worrying’ or ‘creating needless drama’.

Did I mention last night was lovely? It was. Quite. I am still smiling and wrapped in love. In the background, my thoughts continue to linger over the time we spent together.

Autumn rose hips.

Autumn is quickly approaching. There are early sightings all around, already: rose hips turning orange and red, leaves here and there beginning to yellow, fall-flowering wild flowers beginning to bloom, and small forest creatures working to pack on the winter weight for the coming colder seasons. Fall is my favorite, the crisp cold mornings wake me so completely, and the scent of fireplace smoke mingling with late season barbecue grilling is a delight on an autumn afternoon that begins warm, but quickly cools to an uncomfortable chill. Office conversations and meeting openers will soon shift from camping trips to football season…

I continue to sip my coffee. It’s very good this morning, and I am enjoying it before it can grow cold. I’ve got an Usher song stuck in my head this morning, but with the patio door open so early I am not inclined to put on the stereo; waking my neighbors to Usher before 6:00 am seems more than a little inconsiderate, so I won’t be doing that. It does not change the music in my head to enjoy the quiet of morning quietly. I can listen to the stereo at a pleasantly loud volume after work, dancing through whatever chores remain to be done this evening, and that will be enough.

Enough.

It is, in fact, a morning of ‘enough’ – enough sleep, enough time to really wake up, enough of the simple resources of adult life that put hot coffee in front of me with such ease, enough to smile about, enough to begin the day with contentment and joy… simply and entirely enough. [Your results may vary.] The morning seems so saturated with sufficiency that it seems enough to mention that it is enough to be here, now, smiling. Additional words might be superfluous, as with the excess of buying ‘one more of those..’ when more can neither be used, nor enjoyed.

Today is a good day for ‘enough’, and as is so often the case with moments of confusion, the confusion I began with didn’t last – which, as it turns out, is also enough. Today is a good day to use my words, and also to embrace the quiet when the words run out. Today is a good day to enjoy things as they are. Today is a good day for love, and lovers, and a good day to connect with friends. Today is a good day to breathe deeply, and take great delight in small moments that feel wonderful, filling up on what feels good in each moment, however fleeting. Savoring this life, these moments, is sort of the point of having them. Certainly, enjoying them changes my experience of the world.