sometimes i get up too early...before 5am. wide awake, it's barely daybreak. the apartment is still except for the occassional creaking of wooden floorboards under slightly heavy calico paws. then they both sit quietly waiting for breakfast. i hear them crunching the kibble...
i get the small saucepan and pour the soy milk in. add a drop or two of vanilla. a few shakes of cinnamon and nutmeg. a handful of raisins. pat of butter. shake in the oats. i never really measure...
then comes the stirring. wooden spoon goes round and round. figure eights. infinity. my hand and forearm settle into a familiar rhythm. my mind wanders a bit...what will the weather be like today? what will the day bring me? how will the day end?
the kitchen smells good, feels warm and safe, like when i was little and watched from the kitchen table as mom stirred her oatmeal. i can sit here forever, sipping coffee, eating oatmeal and watching the sun come up.