Charlotte Latvala: Morning time is sacred

Thump, thump, thump.

There were footsteps coming down the stairs. I glanced at the clock in alarm.

7 a.m. This was unheard of. Who could be disturbing the stillness?

“It’s me, Mom.” My daughter breezed into the kitchen and started making coffee. “Good morning to you, too.”

She was visiting for a week, and I suddenly remembered that she’s a 27-year-old professional who no longer keeps the hours of a college student. It’s normal for her to be up early, starting her work-from-home day.

Just like me. And I loved having her here.

But.

Do you know how you have that one sacred thing? It might be the vintage Corvette no one else is allowed to touch. Or a reading nook, off-limits to the rest of the family. Or your secret stash of dark chocolate?

Well, my sacred thing is my morning routine.

I love mornings. My peak hours of creativity, productivity and healthy habits happen in the 6 a.m. to 1 p.m. range.

But I’m not a roll-out-of-bed, seize-the-day, jump-up-and-sing-halleluiah morning person.

For the first hour I’m up (whether it begins at 5, 6, or 7 a.m.) I need to readjust to the outside world. I’m like a baby lizard slowly cracking its shell open, blinking and squirming and unsure if I want to enter this strange new universe.

So I do it in steps. I have a rigid routine I can do without thinking, without reflecting. And with each step, I become a little less lizard-like and slightly more human. It’s still painful to be awake, but a little less so with each passing minute.

The steps are mundane but weirdly soothing. They include gathering up trash and tossing in the first load of laundry and scooping cat litter. Caffeine is involved. So is an oil diffuser that shoots invigorating lemongrass scent into the air.

Meanwhile, my cat gives me a loud, droning lecture on the hazards of ignoring him. Once he’s fed, I anoint my tea with lemon and honey. I check my email, bank account, and blood pressure. Play Wordle.

And then, I’m ready to face the day. Oh wait, but I’m only ready to face the day if NO ONE HAS SPOKEN TO ME. The 45-60 minutes I spend readjusting to the atmosphere of planet Earth must pass in complete silence, or my equilibrium is thrown off.

For most of my adult life, this hasn’t been an issue. For some years, I lived alone. Then, I married a night owl. And my kids were, well, kids. To see one of them before 10 a.m. on a non-school day was as rare as a UFO sighting.

But that was then.

Now? My daughter sat down with her coffee and laptop and started clicking away. I began to ask her what she had in store for the day, but I swear she gave me a look that said she needed some quiet to concentrate.

And to be honest I felt a little proud.

Charlotte is a columnist for The Times. You can reach her at charlottelatvala@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Beaver County Times: Latvala: Morning time is sacred