Eggs and Sunshine

Mornings these days are a little different. Not because my routine has changed all that much, but more because I have started noticing things in a way I didn’t before - well not as often anyway. Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s just this phase of life I’m in. Either way, I have found myself soaking up the small stuff… the in-between bits that I used to rush through or barely acknowledge.

These days, there’s no conversation first thing. No one asking where their socks are or talking over the kettle’s whistle. It’s just me. Which, surprisingly, I’ve come to really enjoy. I used to think I needed the noise… now I think silence might actually be the better option. It’s easier to think. Easier to breathe.

I’ve started sitting down to write a little in the mornings, well - most mornings. Not anything specific or structured, just whatever is on my mind before the day really kicks in - much like right now. Most of the time it isn’t a massive amount of writing, but that isn’t really the point anyway, the point… is it has become part of my rhythm now. A quiet little check-in with myself before things get noisy again.

One new ritual that’s snuck its way into my mornings is this mid-morning “eggs on bread” thing. Two fried eggs, fried together in Jude’s tiny little mini pan, yolks still runny… on a slice of sourdough. That’s it. Well, sometimes I add a slice of cheese or in this instance, top it with a little freshly chopped baby spinach. Nothing fancy. But it’s weird how much I look forward to it. I never used to eat breakfast at all actually, in fact I seldom ate until much later in the day and I just ate whatever - usually standing in the kitchen and doing three other things at the same time.