I awoke and sat on the edge of my bed. Maggie yawned and sighed softly before curling back up to go to sleep once again. I pulled on my shorts, socks, and tennis shoes to get ready for my morning walk. It was still dark as night outside without a hint of dawn on the horizon.Here’s to hoping it will be another quiet and uneventful day less filled with the turmoil’s of my mental illness. I have to treasure these eyes in the storm of the turbulent hurricane that can be my mind.
The sun was just beginning to rise on this cold morning as I once again completed six miles. The cold and dampness of the air made me shiver after all that rain we got. I walked over to Merl’s Diner to eat breakfast and to drink as much coffee as my bladder could hold.
Merl’s was busy this morning. The smell of frying bacon came wafting out of the kitchen evoking memories of cold winter mornings spent on my grandmother’s farm. Breakfast was the biggest and most important meal of the day for her.
“You’ve got to start your day right,” She would tell me. “A good breakfast gets you on the right footing for the day.”
I could picture her standing in her quaint little country kitchen over a hot stove as she fried bacon and scrambled my favorite, cheese eggs. The creak of the door of her oven would sound as she would pull out a big pan of made-from-scratch biscuits. She would carefully cut in half each biscuit to add a dab of fresh cream butter. We would then eat quietly as she sipped upon her piping hot coffee from her favorite and ancient old coffee mug as shafts of the warm morning sun would splay out upon her kitchen floor from her window.
This morning I ordered two sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits along with a large coffee. I sat quietly eating as I people watched. The owner of the restaurant, Merl, then went around to each table to ask her customers if everything tasted okay and if they needed anything. I thought that was a nice touch. You surely wouldn’t see something like that down at McDonald’s eating their bland breakfast fare.
I finally finished my breakfast and stepped into the bathroom to make room for all the coffee I had drank. I then stepped back out into the cool morning air to make it home in time to watch ER on TNT which has also become a morning ritual. Here’s to hoping it will be another quiet and uneventful day less filled with the turmoil’s of my mental illness. I have to treasure these eyes in the storm of the turbulent hurricane that can be my mind.