muscle memory

I woke up, naturally. I rolled over and glanced at the clock. “No need to get up in the 4am hour, it’s Saturday.” I rolled back over and managed to fall back asleep. I woke up again. I rolled over and glanced at the clock again. 5:56. “Reasonable time to rise and shine on a Saturday.” With no plans for the morning, and flying solo while my family takes on the Utah mountains, I lay in bed for a few more minutes.

The house was quiet. I wondered where Maci had spent the night with so many beds empty. Did she settle in on Grace’s bed, her usual spot, or did she jump at the opportunity to soak in Megan or Hannah’s scent in their absence. Then I smelled something.

“Is that coffee?”

Billy wasn’t home to brew it. I knew I had made the set the pot up the night before as I do every single night.

“Did I press the auto brew button out of habit? I don’t think I did. I don’t remember seeing the blue light to the right, indicating it was set. But muscle memory can be pretty automatic?”

“Maybe I don’t smell coffee, maybe I’m imagining it. But, if I did hit auto brew, I hope it’s not burnt. I hate to throw it out.“

I cease my early inner morning dialogue, roll myself out of bed, and head downstairs. The aroma gets stronger with each step. I round the corner into the kitchen, my eyes go right to the coffee pot, there I see the blue light, the blue light in the center that confirms the initial scent of coffee. The auto brew had done it’s job. It had brewed that coffee for one at 4:40 am and it was ready and waiting for me at 6:06.

It wasn’t burnt. I didn’t have to throw it out. I guess I’m a creature of habit.