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I woke up early again this morning. Another bad dream.
I gently rolled my pitbull off my legs, covered her up, and then crept downstairs. I opened the front door, grabbed the newspaper off the stoop, and then walked back into the kitchen. I pulled my bag of Black Rifle Coffee off the shelf, loaded the French Press, and waited for the water to boil.
The whistling from the kettle pulled me from the article I was reading, and I poured the boiling water into the press. A few minutes later, I poured myself a cup. Black. Hot. The first sip warmed me. The second delivered the rich flavor I’ve come to expect and love from BRCC. All seemed right in the world for that brief moment in time. In various forms, this has been my morning ritual for years.
Unfortunately, however, time isn’t able to come to a standstill. The rest of the world caught up and encroached on my time. I began to hear cars passing on the street, angrily honking at the vehicle in front of them because they didn’t slam on the gas pedal the moment the light changed to green. My phone started its ritualistic vibrations as the work emails started flooding in. And my pitbull, Daphne came barreling down the stairs, afraid she’d missed something while she was asleep.
In other words, my day had started.
That’s the moment from that day that has stuck with me. It’s the moment from most days that sticks with me. That moment of solitude in the morning, sitting at the bar in my kitchen, drinking the perfect cup of coffee before stepping out into an imperfect world.
As the rest of the day unfolds my stress level rises, my temper gets shorter, and my tolerance for the people around me disappears. This says more about me than them. I promise you.
When I made the transition from soldier to civilian, I struggled to relate to those I met in college. I struggled to relate to those I met at the bars. I am social enough and I met a lot of people, but it didn’t seem to click. I was the king at getting too drunk and ending friendships and relationships before they had a chance to really take off.
That was until I met my wife. For the first time, I was able to open up and let my real self show- something I’d never done before. I was able to talk about the dreams that woke me in the middle of the night. And most importantly, I was able to talk about the things that caused those dreams.
My favorite part of the day became not that moment of solitude and stillness in the morning, but the moment she would wake up and interrupt it: the moment that sleepy smile spread across her face as we said good morning.
To put it another way, my wife saved me. At a time in my life when I was closed off, distant, and missing part of my humanity, she taught me how to open back up. She taught me that it was OK to take a chance on someone. She showed me that it was OK to brew two perfect cups of coffee instead of one. And while I am still a work in progress, continuously trying to evolve, she has shown me that it’s OK to be imperfect.
But most importantly, she has shown me that life can contain more light than dark.
#WordsThatMatter
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This post is republished on Medium.
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