Many years ago, I began getting my fat butt out of bed at 5 am to try to reduce the size of said fat butt. Sometimes those resolutions fade by February, but this one stuck. I lost weight, got fit, and even ran a few marathons. I also learned that you don’t consistently get up at 5 am without coffee.

Coffee is the sweet nectar of a contented life.

Soon a creative stirring began and I wanted to write. But my evenings with four young children consisted of eating, playing, and reading Paddington before collapsing into a crumpled heap. Sometimes I even made it to my own bed. A sacrifice was necessary, so I made a decision to go from six gym days to four and give myself two mornings a week to write. I wrote and blogged and blogged and wrote in the early dark.

I also consume copious amounts of rich, dark coffee in the quiet of the morning.

This pattern has continued… but lately, someone has been stealing my coffee. Ordinarily, I would protest like a grumpy old man should. I would fling my arms in the air and huff around. Or maybe I’d play the martyr card with a loud hurumph. After all, it’s MY coffee.

But I somewhat like this intrusion.

The only one of my children who ever got up early was Kylie. She liked coffee but was far from a purist, however. She tainted it with so much sugar and cream that it became something more akin to the fountain at Willie Wonka’s factory than the smooth, bitter goodness I enjoy. I didn’t mind. Rather than break the silence of the dark, Kylie had a way of adding to it as she snuggled beside me sharing a wordless kind of love.

There is nothing quiet about the new coffee thief. Her alarm starts around 5:45 am and repeats at regular intervals until the tune drones in my head hours after the sun has risen. Curse that wretched snooze button! At 6:15 the thief will trudge through the dark and unashamedly pour a cuppa from MY carafe – reducing the sum total of my bliss and likely lowing my blood pressure by a point or two…

But then I remember, this is what we’ve worked, hoped, and prayed for. This coffee thief is getting up as she begins her life of gainful employment. And it is fun to behold. In fact, it is a full circle moment.

Ms. Myers is now the 7th grade English teacher at the very school she attended. The school all my girls went to – the place we loved and loved us so well during Kylie’s sickness and death. This was actually her dream job and getting it was a complete God wink.

She has so much to offer as a teacher and mentor and I can’t imagine a better life than pouring it out for others. Those are lucky kids. Oh, I don’t imagine she’ll be a pushover. She rails me for grammatical missteps and I am sure some of her students will offend her Shakespearean snobbery. But she’s the fair sort and will be a delight.

I guess that’s worth a cup of coffee or two.

 

And just think… in an odd sort of way, I am influencing the youth of today by proxy. Now that’s something to consider and fear!