A typical day alone which is not typical at all

My eyes open to the brightness of the room. The new crisp cotton sheets that we spent some of our wedding money on are wrapped around me, twisted around me. I am laying horizontally on the bed. Even in my sleep I knew I didn’t need to share. I wrap my hair in a bun, put on my housecoat and go to the kitchen to start a coffee. I cut up strawberries and put them in my bowl. A banana. A scoop of homemade granola. A scoop of vanilla yogurt. A spoon of sugar in my mug. A single serving of coffee. I pour in milk and realize it has gone off.

Between reading emails I do chores. We have two bonsais which I have taken on as my personal care projects. I have mentioned we live in a jungle, our flat covered by large yuccas that surround the room with their palm branches. Our kitchen is laced with pots and soil. Basil grows strong in the windows. They are his children. The wee trees are mine. I touch their mossy soil to see if they are wet. I trim areas that need trimming and bring them into the bathroom. Placing them in the tub I shower them with lukewarm water. The smell of forest floor wafts to my nose. I notice our temperamental tree has a flower. Putting them back in the bedroom I smile at the shadows they cast on the walls. I must be doing something right.

I put on my tights, a bra and a tank top. I gather my blocks and my yoga mats. I sweep the floor, take off my rings, my glasses and look out to the sea. I remind myself to be patient with my body and to be happy for the love I am about to give it. I go through my practice and wonder if it is time to hire someone to give me some one on one time. I wonder if my practice is stagnant. I roll the mats up when I am done and look around the room. There is a lot to tidy and I wonder where to start. I prepare what is essential for my clients this afternoon, linens, oils, music. I trim my nails, file them down. I tidy. I prepare. I sit and blog so that in years from now I will have some concept of what my life is like in this moment. This moment that may not mean anything to someone else but a moment that is about to change significantly. It is almost here. As I gather up empty wine bottles and random threads from a sewing project I just finished I check on the quinoa and broccoli I am cooking on the stove. It is almost lunch. Then it is almost time for work. Then it almost time for my man to come home. Love.