A love letter to morning commutes.

The sun is bright, but hasn’t fully burned away the midnight dew. Birds stir and coffee brews. I spend too much time picking my clothes and pinning up my hair because playing dress up makes everything more fun.

Morning commute, I love you.

I will admit that it has not been very long and I might start to dread you after a few months. 

However, for now, I look upon this daily voyage with fondness. 

In my youth, I lived in a big city. Back then, you were made up of bus stop benches, music drowned out by the clang of subway tracks, enthralling books, and the long, loping strides of needing to get someplace on time.

Today, I live somewhere quieter, and you’ve changed. Together, we’ve learned how to drive safely while sleepy, and the importance of preparing iced coffee tumblers. And despite my initial hesitation in joining this high-carbon footprint world of American Car Culture, I have discovered unexpected beauty in this new rhythm. 

I declare your praises! You are an hour for scream-singing and meditation; an occasion for podcasts and prayer; a moment of pause between one moment of hurry and the next. 

And I think if I continue to embrace you as a task to be celebrated, rather than dreaded for your burdensomeness and unfamiliarity, you will become my steadfast, treasured companion. Oh, how I look forward to meeting you in the morning. 

Sunbeams fall on my porch again

Surrendered secrets, forbidden sins

Tell the birds not to wake me before 9

They never listen; they sing in time

And if for a minute I wake up and listen

They tell me I’m living a life filled with riches

And I know I belong

To mornings filled with song

Delighted by the light

A long forgotten night

“Sunbeams” by Anika Isabella