I’m an early bird, starting my days well before the sun rises.
When we lived in San Francisco, I remember getting up early to walk the 1.5 miles to my office on Market Street. I’d leave home around 5:30 and marvel at the city waking up.
The hazard lights on delivery trucks. The creaking of the cable cars. The rush of commuters climbing up the stairs from MUNI and BART.
New York was similar. I’d take the subway down to Wall Street, exit a few stops early then walk into the office. New York doesn’t really sleep so it doesn’t necessarily wake up.
Yet, there’s something about seeing the sun come up over Manhattan.
Mornings look better. They smell better. And if you pick up breakfast when the delis and bodegas first open, they taste better.
I was reminded about the mornings recently.
We took a personal day and headed to Northern Idaho.
Up early in the morning, we grabbed some coffee and just sat there.
Looking out onto the boats, the dock, the lake and the slice of moon that peaked out behind the clouds then quickly disappeared.
The stillness of the boats. The cool mist of the lake. The fresh, steamy coffee.
Mornings still look, smell and taste better.