Every morning, sometime between 3 and 5 a.m., I wake up. Not to an alarm clock. Not to chaos. But to the quiet sound of Oscar bringing me a fresh cup of coffee, still steaming, delivered with a kind smile while I’m still tucked in bed.
It’s such a simple act, but it sets the tone for everything else. That little ritual—the coffee, the quiet, the calm—has become the soft landing I need before facing the rest of the world. And apparently, I’m not alone in this.
More and more people are trading the “rise and grind” hustle culture for something slower, more intentional. There’s a new conversation happening, one that asks: What if productivity isn’t about how early you clock in or how many tabs you keep open, but about how centered you feel when you start your day?
For me, that centering begins with coffee in bed and a moment to just be. No emails. No deadlines. Just me, the morning air, and the man who loves me enough to make sure my cup is full before I even step foot on the floor.
It’s not just about the coffee. It’s the care. The consistency. The love that speaks without words. In a world that’s obsessed with the next big thing, I’m finding peace in the smallest routines. They’re not flashy or loud—but they’re mine.
So while the internet debates early morning routines, hustle culture, and the “5 a.m. club,” I’ll be here—wrapped in a blanket, sipping slowly, starting my day with love instead of stress.
That, to me, is the real luxury.
Love always,
Aunty Christine
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