The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

 I woke up early this morning, this third day of Kwanzaa, when collective work and responsibility is the principle driving our actions and decided heartedly that I was not going to jump into my usual Monday work. This is my usual day when I pop in a load of towels, sip some coffee, and have a moment before the hustle and bustle of the week takes over the quiet still of a very dark New England morning. Yesterday, while my son was getting ready to go back to Boston, I decided a think. So I baked bread. Well, am baking bread, biscuits, to be exact. The yeast was sat out for a 24 hour hold and was met with the other ingredients around 5:30am. After everything was set and the dough resting, I went back to sip some coffee and write.  Writing by hand soothes me and reminds me. I am connected in a different way and attentive, so I gave myself some time to be present with just me.  My library has near floor-to-ceiling windows and my favorite blue leather chair. I sat here, the sky...

Breathing It is my first winter in Connecticut and last week, we were treated to 18 inches of snow. The vast, smooth, white fluff covered the 2 1/2 acres around our house and requested to be noticed. So, I paused to notice her. She called me to listen to her, to open my front door, even if snow was all the way up to it, to just gaze upon her and deeply inhale. The morning after the snow was so bright and crisp. I looked at her and inhaled. Then I closed my eyes and let the memory of her become etched in my spirit. Yes, it was cold, yes, I needed to put on those LandsEnd boots we bought on a whim during a house hunting expedition back in July. We didn't know how much it would be and since we had lived where it snowed before, figured we could adjust. Still, we were compelled. Glad we did. Then, when she came, she came fully and the Nor'easter welcomed us in the way that demanded that we take notice of her existence. She wanted us to pause and take a deep breath, to be still. This...

 I've been thinking a lot lately about life, purpose, being, presence. One of the things that prompted me to consider this is how long I have been in the place of "second." In many ways, the place of second, or support, chose me. I'm naturally observant, organized, and on. I unpacked pretty much this entire house, know where everything is (except down in the man cave) and can inventory everything without fail. It is something that I am good at. Support.  This morning, in the darkest before dawn in the cold rainy Connecticut morning, I started thinking about the next years of my life and if I wanted to be in a supportive role for all those years. Perhaps it is because my last child just turned seventeen. That almost there time, junior year, flexing her growing independence. They don't really need me anymore in the ways they did in 2003 when I walked away from a lucrative marketing career.  I walked through my living room to my dining room to the kitchen and just lo...

I am an early riser. Always have been. Friday is my Sabbath. Has been at least since seminary. I rarely, if ever sleep in. One of the gifts of the pandemic with my daughter being in virtual school and us being in a new state is that I do not have to interrupt my Friday repose by early morning forays out into the world. I am cherishing every moment of it. Coffee in peace, the entire house still asleep before the first light breaks through the darkness, nothing stirring, just me, in space. This morning as I was sitting in my favorite blue leather chair, I sipped a latte, and thought about all the possibilities that are in an unfolding moment.  My library is filled with books. Each one is carefully curated. As we are settling into our home, we are preparing to hang the artwork that will make this place complete. So I sat here this morning, sipping my latte, looking at the first crest of light, and thinking about how just being in space, in the dark, is a gift. Too often, in the Americ...

 I've moved. Something I've done before. This is the first time I've moved across several states that required a plane trip to get here. So, family and I are settling into this new space. We selected this house, more like my youngest child, chose this house because she loved the hardwood floors, the space, and the scenery. We had been looking at houses for two weekends up here, besides a huge binder full of properties from the New York City line up to Hamden.   We were moving in the middle of a pandemic.  It was going to be the start of her junior year, so schools made an enormous impact in where we would call home, at least for the next two years. The things we decided to do were not to buy a house immediately. He was starting a new job as CEO of a community college, having retired from his long-time career in higher education, last as President of an HBCU. It was going to be an adjustment and a time of settling in. He only took a month to just relax before taking on a n...

 I've been thinking a lot about 2016. That election year and all that happened. All that folks were shocked about. The end result. I was just into my seminary studies and had worked the day before as an Election Judge. Now, to be fair, I was busy that summer. It was the literary circle, pivoting my work so that I could study full-time, being on a long trip to Denver with the family, hanging out at Strand, honestly, living our lives. We were like so many during the 2008-2016 season of American possibilities. Something gave us a sense that surely, surely, surely this country would not turn a dark, dark corner after enjoying these years. Were they perfect? No, because no man is perfect.  There are some that are disappointed in that president. But those were breathing years. Even in the midst of Cincinnati and Ferguson and Baltimore, those were still years that we did not have to worry about a coup. Now, I am well aware of the evil puppet master who held a lock grip on the Senate ...