Back when I was a chef at a rehab I loved making breakfast for everyone. Helping everyone start the day off on a nutritious note felt good but I really enjoyed watching the house wake up. People would gather in the kitchen and hang out with their coffee while I chopped fruit and scrambled eggs. They would visit, talkin about how they slept and any weird dreams they had, who and what they missed at home, what they had scheduled for the day - therapy, group, gym and what not. The newcomers were generally pretty quiet though. Still out of sorts, finding their footing and feeling the place out. People usually arrived at the house with a dubious look on their face and a washed up vibe. There would be that day though, sometimes it took a week or two but they would walk into the kitchen all bed headed with their PJ’s on and their eyes would be bright and clear. It was like meeting them for the first time. They’d be standing up a little straighter, they’d get a cup of coffee and join in on the conversation. That was the real gift of that job. Being there for that moment. Seeing someone wake up in themselves. We are two weeks into #dryjanuary and I can’t help but wonder who out there is having that moment today.