Wednesday, September 29, 2010

A New Package of Bacon

I haven't had bacon in my fridge for a few weeks; my officemate bought us this giant vat of Puffed Cheese Balls (yes, that is generic for Cheetos), so I felt that my totally-non-nutritive-excuse-for-protein category of the food pyramid was effectively filled by our epic consumption of these rather addictive little buggers. Thus, I bought no bacon.

But this week I couldn't resist, no matter how many cheese balls I eat at work.

I have to say, this morning, sitting on my balcony, I was really happy I had bought it. The smell of it coming from my kitchen was the only reminder of reality as I sat out on my porch. It was one of those mornings that seems to happen to you instead of being something you watch; it was so slow, so pale but so bright, and the fingers of dawn climbed over and under and around every rock and tree and car in such a way that even the parking lot below my porch seemed a beautiful thing. I have never seen those shades of pink in that order, and I have certainly never seen that shade of robin's egg blue.

At the same time, I have seen a morning of equal wonder every time I've woken up early enough for it -- it was a totally discrete instance, but it also wasn't at all. In a million mornings, there will be many of these, remarkably similar at the surface; but that's not how it felt, eating my eggs and perfect bacon. (Seriously, it was the perfect blend of chewy and crispy. It also wasn't so heavily smoked that it had a heavy smell while cooking -- it was more like a light breeze of maple syrup coming from my kitchen.)

It felt a bit like fate that I had bought my bacon and woke up at six, that I had one bag of my favorite kind of tea left, and that the sun had waited until I got there to give its morning show.

I suppose I know that this morning, down to the smell of my breakfast, has happened a hundred times before and will happen a million times again; I know that none of it had anything to do with me and that most of this was chance, but I think that moments of beauty happen because we are ready to see them, that sitting still long enough to let them happen is a skill. That stillness has not always come naturally to me, but the peace that comes from enjoying the morning is a lifestyle choice I am happy to make.

Then again, it could just be that the world looks better when it smells like bacon.

1 comment:

  1. "I think that moments of beauty happen because we are ready to see them, that sitting still long enough to let them happen is a skill." What wisdom! I'm still working on that skill, but being reminded of it will help. Thank you!