By Janet Manders

The day started like most others. Recently retired, I had learned to enjoy sliding into and savoring mornings. A huge difference from what I had experienced in prior years as a working mom.

For the bulk of my adult life, a screeching alarm pushed me, and my loud moans and groans, out of bed. My rituals to start the day were not activities I looked forward to. And truth be told, no one in my family found anything to appreciate about me, as they watched me stumble around with a frown on my face. But, after gulping down a cup of energy-boosting coffee, I was always ready to tackle the day with my left-sided brain. Mental, as well as hand-written, checklists dominated and directed my life. I thrived on being organized and well prepared to complete the many tasks that awaited me, both at home and at work.

Finally, at the age of 66, gentler and quieter routines became my new normal. Instead of waking up to a number on the clock, I rolled out of bed when I felt ready. A cup of strong coffee was still key to jump-starting my day, but my life had evolved to sipping that java, on the couch, with my phone in hand. I looked forward to time spent scrolling through my online sources that provided current news as well as spiritual messages. Successfully playing the online word games from the New York Times always had me mentally pumping my fists in the air. And a sense of connection to those I loved was found through shared texts and social media posts.

Letting go of those mental to-do lists was a little trickier however, so my second cup of coffee was always followed by opening my electronic calendar to see what was scheduled for the day. Perhaps lunch with a friend. Or volunteer work. Or meeting with my writing group. Hopefully not the dreaded dentist!

It was the Spring of 2024, and I had now enjoyed the satisfaction of nine months of developing and nurturing my new morning practices. The pleasant fragrance of hazelnut, from my steaming mug of coffee, accompanied me as I settled into the soft cushions of our worn, brown couch. I eagerly opened my phone to the sense of fulfillment that I knew would come next. Sure enough, an inspirational quote about gratitude, completing Wordle in only three attempts, and a text from my bestie all had me grinning widely. 

When I flipped to the calendar, I realized it was March 11. Three years since Dad died. The pain from his loss had recently settled into a dull ache. I closed my eyes to consider how I could honor his memory. Before I could plan anything though, I needed to know if there were any obligations to consider.  Was today a day where I’d be providing childcare for one of the grandchildren? Were there left-overs in the refrigerator or was today one for meal prep? Was the laundry basket overflowing? The questions mounted as I moved to the kitchen to rinse out my empty coffee cup. What task on the to-do list was a priority to start the day? Did I need actual pen and paper to organize and get it all done? I could feel the muscles in my neck tightening ever so slightly, now that my brain had switched to that familiar mode of list making.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of color and movement. I turned towards the window and saw a cardinal perched on the sill outside. The commonly held belief that cardinals are a sign that a departed loved one was visiting, stopped me in my tracks. I placed a hand over my heart and heard myself whisper, “Well, hello Dad. How are you doing?” Gentle warmth spread in my chest as the bird cocked his head towards me. “I sure miss you. So does Mom. Judy, Mary, Tom, and I are taking good care of her. She’s doing okay.”

The cardinal bobbed his head once and then flew off. I followed his red streak through the air, past the white, fuzzy buds on our magnolia bush. He paused near the vibrant green leaves poking through the ground. Tulips would soon be blooming. 

 My shoulders relaxed as I went in search of my baseball cap. Who cares about the dishes in the sink or a to-do list, I told myself. It’s time to head outside. To find more of the magic in the moment.

© 2025 Janet Manders

Janet is a newly retired Occupational Therapist who enjoyed a career working with Public School Teachers to support students to be successful academically, socially, and emotionally. She has always enjoyed books and is currently working on a memoir along with picture books for children.