Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Slowing Down to Smell the Espresso

My mornings are usually pretty hectic. No easing into the day for me. I'm up before 6am and out the door before 7am. I rarely eat breakfast or have my morning cup of coffee unless it's while walking, driving or working. It's just the way I work.

This morning started out the same way. I jumped out of bed into the shower and then went straight to the multitasking: brushing teeth, drying hair, checking the day's schedule, grabbing my lunch from the fridge while hopping on one foot trying to get my shoe on. Oh, and don't forget the extra pair of shoes (dress heels) for meetings. I hopped in the elevator to go down to the garage, wishing it would run faster as I was already feeling late on my day. Getting in the car, I didn't expect anything was wrong, but by the time I'd gotten up the drive, into the street and to my first corner, I knew my little car wasn't making it to work this morning.


Changing direction and driving my car slowly but carefully toward my mechanic (thankfully close, but still too far to push the car if it actually broke down), I instantly started worrying about my schedule, how I would get to work, how I would get back from work, what I was supposed to do without a car for the (seemingly) requisite minimum three days it would likely be in the shop. 

Finally pulling into the mechanic's parking lot was a relief, but I still had to figure out how to get to work. I texted and called a few coworkers I knew that lived in my area. I was starting to feel desperate. I am not late to work. It's not what I do. It just isn't done. Thankfully, someone returned my text in the end and said they'd be in the area in about forty minutes. Rather than wait in the cool, but muggy morning, I decided to walk down to a local coffee shop that I knew was in the general area and wait there. My arms laden with all of my clutter (purse, phone, keys, lunch, extra shoes) I started down the street. 

By the time I got to the coffee shop, ordered a cappuccino, and put my things down in one chair at a small table and sank into the other, I was ready for the day to be over. My schedule was shot; so was my hair and I was none too anxious about the costs of car repairs. I was already trying to go over in my mind what I had to get ready before my first meeting at 9am. And then, as I sat slowly sipping the rich, bitter coffee, I slowed down. My mind stopped racing, I took a breath, I let out a sigh. In that moment, everything was "okay". It is ironic that my most peaceful morning was one forced on me very much against my will. Life has a funny way of taking me at my most frantic and making me slow down, especially when I think it's the biggest waste of time and the hardest to come by.



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