My Morning, For Now

Or "Remembering to set the table...

My first job when I moved to the U.S. was with a hospitality company. To learn the business top-to-bottom, they had us new-hires start in the dining room, as servers.

It wasn’t my calling. But I stuck with it long enough to make it to the next step, and some things from those early days have stayed with me.

Opening shifts started at 6 a.m. We arrived groggy from the subway commute, half-awake and craving that first hit of caffeine. We’d slip into our uniforms, clock-in, and slide into the morning routine. The dining room was still dark and quiet. Music played softly, and the morning checklist, simple and clear, set us on our routines to get the restaurant ready.

Chairs straightened - check ✔️. Silverware polished - check ✔️. Salt and pepper shakers refilled - check ✔️.

You didn’t need to think, just to move. It was meditative, a slow rhythm before the doors opened and our hurried New York City customer arrived to demand her morning “usual.”

I’ve been thinking about that morning checklist recently.

In this most recent chapter in my life, losing my job and reflecting on what’s next, I’m slowly realizing that I’ve got to set the table again. The customer base may have changed; we’ve swapped the Soho crowd and their extra dry lattes (you mean a cappuccino?!) and avocado toasts on gluten free bread, “no pumpkin seeds, but with extra chia seeds, to go, obviously,” for new customers. My new crowd, a morning curmudgeon and our four little dragons, may not bring the same style, but are no less demanding…”No, mom, not that one. I want the other pink straw!" And that’s been in addition to the email responses saying that the job I recently applied for has already been filled, or worse, the email responses that I never get. Or that scary voice in my head questioning the logic of every decision I thought I had already made. (I've named her Georges!)

Where are the chairs, the silverware, and the salt and pepper shakers in this chapter?

They’re slowly re-emerging in the stillness and quiet of the morning. Starting in kindness toward myself has become so important. I want to be gentle and good to myself as I navigate this season. So I’ve been waking up an hour before the mice—err, dragons—stir. It’s a work in progress. Sometimes children’s footsteps pound down the hallway before I make it down the stairs. But when it works, when the world is still soft and dark and I can begin my routine on my terms, it feels like a gift.

I want to have the most positive mindset possible, so I don’t crumble under fear or panic.

Here’s what I do:

• Drink a glass of water and get comfortable in the living room.

• Meditate for 20 minutes using the Ziva method. (Currently testing the “Open” app, more on that to follow in a later post)

• Journal for a few minutes. Nothing fancy—just whatever comes. If I’m stuck, I ask myself something simple: What do I need today? What’s the next right step?

• Fill in my Five Minute Journal. Gratitudes. Intentions. Maybe a tiny affirmation.

• Repeat a mantra my sister Caro recently shared with me:
  “I connect to my inner light. I welcome abundance and vibrate in harmony with the universe.” (source: unknown)

This whole thing maybe takes 40 minutes. I like to give it a full hour when I can. No phone. No scrolling. Just breathing, and preparing the room for the customers to arrive.

Afterward, I head back to the kitchen. I make coffee and lunch for the kids. PLB comes down, starts breakfast for all of us, and the rhythm of the family day begins. But I’m already a little more anchored, a little more ready. Less reactive, and more myself. It’s also the feeling of already having achieved something and showing up for myself before the world wakes up.

It’s not perfect. Sometimes I sleep in, or the kids wake early, or I skip steps. But I keep coming back. Because this is how I want to feel when I meet the day: deliberate, rooted, a little bit lighter.

This isn’t a how-to. Just an invitation. How do you want to feel when your day begins? And what might help you feel that way, even for five quiet minutes?