It is Sunday morning and I find myself snapping a photo of my mug. The cup is white with stains from daily doses of English Breakfast tea, and the writing decorating the mug is chipping. Plastered on the front is written: “Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart. – unknown.” The sun is shining, and if I hold the camera phone just so I can capture a brilliant ray of sun streaming in on my full cup.
But the truth is the dining room table is chaos. There is a grocery list two inches from my mug, carefully planned out meals for a meager end of the month budget. The dark wood of the table masks the spills, glue puddles dried days ago and condensation rings. There are two little ones squirming… one next to me, the other across the table. They shout taunts at each other one moment, and then they whisper in cahoots the next. My husband is diagonal from me. Barely awake. It is 6:30am on a Sunday morning.
We catch each others eyes apologetically, as normally one of us sleeps in and the other comes down. We alternate. Today the children demanded both of us be present for the early morning activities. Across from me there’s a swig of milk taken and a shirt sleeve used as a napkin, an eye caught and a sly glance exchanged. At my right a coloring book is unveiled, a rainbow colored Snoopy in progress. A half eaten bagel and cream cheese covered set of lips is looking for a smooch. My husband and I stare at each other, wondering how on earth the children can talk so fast, so much, so early. How their minds can start without caffeine-without a cup of coffee or a mug of tea.
And peace is here for the taking, along with a mug of tea and a shirt sleeve napkin.
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