Late Afternoon

Being my father’s daughter, I am partial to early mornings. I love the way the air feels different, the sky looks different and the anticipation of a new day begninning each morning. Much to my mother’s shock (she is indeed a night owl, just like my brother), I am at work at seven most mornings. I love the light in the library at that hour, devoid of patrons and most employees. There is the early morning clique at the library, and I feel bonded to these people, some of whom caught a bus at 6:15, if only for their appreciation and industriousness of mornings. I love breakfast food, all of it. Well, all of it except for omlettes stuffed with loads of veggies. That, much to Tim’s chagrin, is not my favorite. But I love coffee, tea, juice, grapefruit, yogurt, cereal, bagles, waffles, pancakes, eggs (any way but the stuffed omlette), french bread (When in Paris…), french toast, croissants, english muffins, toast…the list goes on.

And while I love early mornings, my favorite time of day is late afternoon. Especially late Friday afternoon…so full of possibility. Several years ago, Fridays were all about what bar to go to (Kilroy’s or Yogi’s? Horse or Vid?) and who would be there and the ever debated when-to-go. Now Fridays aren’t about going out, but being in. There is full possibility still available in my kitchen on Friday afternoon with music on (Clash’s From Here to Eternity), a candle for ambiance, the afternoon light coming in the window above the sink, and a glass of wine while catching up on catalogs, magazines and the mail. I guess some might call it nesting, but it feels like where I belong. On a stool. In my kitchen. On Friday afternoon. I love it.