Provided I don’t have business that drives me into the city early in the morning, my ritual of coming to this place every morning is coming to an end, for several months anyway. In fact, it is conceivable this morning is my last. By this time next Monday, I’ll have hopefully landed safely, without incident, in Missoula, Montana. Nonetheless, I’m here now and will enjoy it like I always do.
Mornings come early for me. I’m usually up between 3:30am and 4am. I get up, jump in the shower, shave, get dressed, make my bed, grab my keys and head out the door. Normally, I’m out of the house and down the road in about forty-five minutes from the moment I get up. My routine takes me to the convenience store where I go to grab my morning drinks.
“Good morning. Welcome!” I’m greeted by the clerk.
“Good morning!” I respond, as I head back to the refrigerators. “Ah yes! They have my drinks this morning.” I think to myself, as I reach for my two favorite flavors of Monster Ultra. Most times they have my flavors, but there are times I’ve left and driven down the road to the next convenience store looking for the flavors I like.
I always take the same route to the place in the woods I enjoy hanging out at in the mornings. It’s a peaceful quiet drive that takes me along the edge of the woods and across a creek or two. It’s odd to even see another vehicle turning off onto the road I take that gets me back here.
This early in the morning, it’s fairly quiet and still dark out. But just as the sky catches a hint of light on the distant horizon and one can just start to make out the mountains in the distance, the first bird begins to chirp. Not too long after, another bird begins and then another and another, until the cacophony surrounds you. It doesn’t last long. The birds leave their roosts, the woods settle back down a bit.
Boy I sure am going to miss this routine, but I’m sure I’ll develop one there. After all, it is Montana.
