The Kitchen Window in the Morning

I’ve found that looking out the kitchen window first thing in the morning and wringing my hands while the coffee is brewing sets just the right mood for my day.

You have to do some preemptive hand wringing so you aren’t tempted to take your hands of the wheel when the urge strikes. If you have some hand wringing stored up, you’re good for hours.

Our daughter is very ill and has been in the hospital for two weeks. Her little girl is living with us. So, we have the almost indescribable joy of being around a crazy happy five-year old all the time along with intense worry and anxiety about the future.

We continue our practice of taking our first cup of coffee on the back porch if the temperature is at least above freezing and there isn’t much wind. Now, our granddaughter joins us eating Golden Grahams out of a coffee mug. She wears one of my winter hats and her bathrobe, sitting in a canvas camp chair tucked in with the blanket from the couch. We talk about the birds and the squirrels and other pressing matters like how all the people have to go to school but animals don’t.

I spend a lot of time in the car driving to and fro. My backseat has erupted into a pile of coloring books, markers, jackets, small bags of animal crackers, and orange peels. The valet parking guys are very nice to us, including the guy who whistles all the time and from a distance sounds like birds recorded in some pristine wild. He whistles while sick and bandaged people wait in wheelchairs and one little girl spins in circles, her arms stretched out and hair flying like this day, this moment is the best one of her life.

I can see the envy on the faces of all the sick and bandaged people. I know that envy, that remembering of a time when we were carefree like this little girl although the feel of it, the breath of it is so distant now.

Maybe it’s enough to know that we had our turn to spin in circles and listen to the man whistle like a bird.

I thought of that looking out the window this morning while wringing my hands.