There is nothing quite like a quiet breakfast with a good book on a Saturday morning.
In another life I would have felt like it was time wasted- actually sitting down alone and enjoying a crepe with my café Americano instead of taking my coffee to go, so I could run to and fro completing errands. The errands still existed today and they eventually got done, but I am learning to slow down. It will be a lengthy transition, that is certain. A part of me still loves racing around so as not to miss anything the day has to offer. It could have much to do with settling into this new culture, but I feel that my pace is changing even if just for today, even if it only means taking the time to taste every bit of strawberry and chocolate and whipped cream. Those who know me well will agree that even one slow breakfast is progress made.