Early morning magic


Is it the lack of structure in my life or can I still blame the jetlag? I’ve been rising early, seeing all hours of the morning, catching the first sunrays. Like an extended dream I drink coffee in bed, eat mango with sticky fingers and read and write. My holidays are not over yet.

I open a window for fresh city air to cool down the warm room after a night of heavy breathing. As the palo santo fumes dance their way to the ceiling, I think back of Canada and the three sticks of incense you gifted me. For special occasions, with a wink. By the end of the summer, three special occasions would have been enveloped in incense smoke and scent.

One in Mexico City, on our first night together, picnic on the bed and no more world outside of the hotel room. One in a mountain top village named San José Del Pacifico, where the smoke of the incense guided me on a magical journey. Eyes closed, inhaling, bringing back memories of love. One as I arrived back home in Brussels, unpacking everything, trying to wrap my head around all the things that happened in the past two months. Welcoming myself home by taking me back to Mexico, right until the incense was all burnt up.

Then I opened my laptop and started to write. That’s what’s been happening every early morning. I jump out of bed and write. In these couple of months before moving to New Zealand to embark on a new adventure, I gift myself nothing but time to write. There have always been other obligations and expectations, but on this extended holiday, there is just this. Early mornings strong coffee tiny eyes writing time.

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