Spirit of the Morning Week #167

My Mornings ....

Mornings start tenderly in this quiet neighborhood. After a short whispered prayer, I step onto the terrace and inhale the cool air brushing past the trees. Everything still seems half-asleep. It’s calm, slow, and I take that as a blessing — a reminder that I’ve been gifted another day.

Before anything else, I face what’s left from the night before — a few dishes patiently waiting in the sink. It has become part of my morning routine to wash them, a gentle way of easing myself into the day.

I change into my walking clothes, reminding myself that at this stage in my life, I need to look after my body more intentionally. I don’t walk fast. No competition. I just go uphill at my own pace so this heart keeps beating stronger. The skies are gray today, the breeze cool — perfect walking weather.

There are no cars, no noise — just my own thoughts walking with me. Reaching the view deck at the top of the village feels like a quiet victory. From there, I can see the city from afar — its buildings and lights slowly waking. I raise my arms and stretch, warming my shoulders, promising myself to face whatever today brings.

Back at home, breakfast is simple: a plain paratha toasted until slightly crisp, a spread of peanut butter and mixed fruit jam, and one good cup of coffee. It’s a simple meal, but the flavors feel like a reward.

Once I’m done, I head upstairs toward a different corner of the house — where another kind of busy morning is waiting. My pups, already wide–awake and hungry, begin jumping around the moment they see me carrying their bowl. It’s a little chaotic, but watching them settle and eat makes my heart full. Feeding them has become one of the sweetest parts of my morning rhythm.

Later, I head to WalterMart to pick up ingredients for lunch. I like coming early while the hallways are still half-asleep. I grab a cart and go straight to the vegetables.

Next, I wander to the meat section, while mulling over boiled dish or adobo—whatever my mood settles on later. At the cashier, I unload my haul: calamansi, sili, tomatoes, soy sauce, gata, eggs—the usual suspects. Then, a surprise: the cashier hands me a free C2 Peach Tea. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like life winking back, whispering, “Well done on your morning rounds.”

And so my morning ends — not glamorous, not perfect — but stitched together with quiet joys, tiny victories, and moments that make life feel beautiful.
These slow routines remind me that even simple mornings carry their own spirit — especially in my golden years as a mom, teaching me gratitude one sunrise at a time.