The hours have changed at my regular Starbucks.
This morning, it took me by surprise.
I am, if nothing else, a creature of habit.
My mornings don’t really begin until I’ve got a hot cup of deep, dark roast in my hand. As much as it is a pleasure, it is a necessity.
I used to take my coffee and plop myself down at a coffee shop table with my laptop or journal, and then get on with all I had to do. Slowly, with each sip, I’d get into the daily groove.
That changed, six months ago, when the seating inside the coffee shop was closed off because of COVID-19.
But I adjusted. I’d get my takeaway coffee and set out on a walk through this city’s downtown. Over the months, the route changed and became longer and longer, but the coffee cup was my constant companion. Even then, I may have stumbled for a couple of blocks until the caffeine seeped into my veins.
My routine will now begin a half an hour later.
I will adjust.
I suppose that’s what this year has been about: adjustment.
This coronavirus has wreaked havoc on our everyday lives. The way we work, the way we play, and the comings and goings of our every day have all been an adjustment.
We will continue to adjust, just as we will slowly get used to the darker (and chillier) mornings.
We adjust our lives, where we can and how we can, to the change. We will continue to wonder when, or if, anything will ever get back to normal.
I suppose change is our new normal.
I will adjust.
As long as I’ve got my coffee, the days, somehow, seem easier.