Most days whether in the kitchen or outside, I like a sense of routine. This does not mean, I do not like to do things differently especially in terms of cooking, but I relish a general sense of control, of understanding what is happening in life. Most of all I love the window of quiet time, that I have built into my life through my morning commute.
My crazy quiet corner is a jogging, jostling and moving corner. An unlikely corner and yet it is a corner where I am left alone with a keyboard and my thoughts. There are so many who tell people to find a quiet spot to share their thoughts and find a designated spot to write and share their thoughts. I am not a writer and yet I like to write, I would hear these thoughts and then wonder about finding the time in the midst of the crazy work day, among all the hustle and bustle of work, home, dinner, homework and the day ending. I searched and looked for this quiet spot to write, my dedicated corner, but could never find it.
My weekday mornings start with a predictable routine, that I have come to love for its planned predictability. Many moons back, nine years ago when we were blessed with a lovely girl, and then two moons later my little boy, we agreed that the only thing that we could control was the routine of our house. To control the crazy chaos outside, we imposed a structure inside. This seemed alien at first, but now I love the idea of waking before the others, some days just by a few minutes. I almost always draw the curtains to look outside. It is this fleeting action that allows me to process the seasons, in winter the skies are still dark, in summer bring and now it is the right share of gentle light that brightens as I get organized. I move around to arrange breakfast, pack snack bags and get dressed and usually am greeted somewhere in the midst of this my smiling son. He is the only morning person in our house, he greets the morning with enthusiasm. Once settled and done with breakfast, I put him on the bus and head to work.
Heading to work consists of taking the train toNew York City. I usually get on the third platform and find a designated window seat. For those of us who do the same morning commute understand the unspoken ritual of the morning routine. People do not like others taking their designated seat. As with all things in life, my “designated seat” has a couple of possibilities. Usually ones that I keep designated tend to be ones which afford me the space to spread out just enough to look out at the seasons and fuss on my electronic toys as needed – laptop (no, I am not a tablet kind of girl), kindle and sometimes just the space to take in the golden sun dancing on the little rivulets that make their way in an out of the creeks that flow into the Bronx River
On occasion, I like to look up and take in the scene, and sometimes love to catch snatches of conversation. Yes, those people in Date Night, there are variations of them in real life. I am one of them. In fact, my husband used to be rather surprised at my eavesdropping in the early days, he is used to it now and even on occasion enjoys other people’s conversations through my ears. I hear about work issues, fights, childrens and get glipses of networking all that take place on a moving train. Today back home seemed prime for a simple wholesome comforting meal. I adapted a recipe for rice and lentils (khichari) using quinoa. This is my favorite childhood rice and lentil medley all grown up. I usually do not make this on a warmer day, but there are exceptions to every rule. It worked perfectly and the added bonus was feeling somewhat virtous eating a nice bowl of comfort food.