Quiet Mornings

Really Real Life Post

One of my favorite things about coming to visit my friend in New York is sitting out front in the morning and writing.

At home, I wake up early, I get breakfast and start coffee, I clean up the kitchen from the night before, and I sit at the computer inside for however long, writing, browsing, working on daily tasks.  Outside is loud with city noises, cars, kids playing, trash trucks, it smells like the city or the sewage treatment plant that isn’t too far away.

Here in upstate New York it’s quiet with birds singing and the sounds of trains in the distance.

This is truly one of the most peaceful places I’ve been since my childhood.

Growing up, I remember early mornings at my fathers house, he lived in a suburban town but on a street that was more rural.  The man at the end of the street worked on cars and kept a few horses, across the street and through the woods was a small airport with grass runways.  Sometimes I could find my way there, and if I was lucky I’d catch a little two seater plane taking off.

Quiet mornings spent playing in the woods, exploring, pulling on vines in trees and seeing how much weight they would hold, pretending I was Tarzan swinging through the jungle.

It’s been a lot of years since I would go exploring in those woods and sitting here at my friends house in NY I’m reminded of those same sounds and that same sense of peace.  That same quiet noise, the hum of nature happening all around me.

As my trip draws to a close I’m both looking forward to the return of my normal routines, to seeing my girl and getting my welcome home kiss, getting cuddles from dog with no chill, being eyed up from across the room from jungle cat, while I also wonder how soon I can come back again.

And by the time I post this I will have traveled home again, and my morning routine will be a different sort of quiet.

The quiet of routine and return to my own normalcy.  There is a certain sort of peace to that as well.

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