Housecoat Mornings
One of the fondest memories I have of my mother is her housecoat. A robe, she called it. But it wasn’t a robe. A robe wraps around you and is held in place (or not) by a belt tied tightly at the waist. A housecoat, on the other hand, is a loose-fitting garment with buttons, snaps or a zipper. Mom wore her housecoat in the morning, in-between pajamas and real clothes. In the era of Jackie O., my mom was a similar fashionista. When she left for the day, she looked as though she just stepped away from a photo shoot; classy and impeccably put together. But at home, she was all about hygge (The Dutch word for cozy). Cozy and comfort ruled the morning.
In the spring and summer, Mom’s housecoats were light and breezy; colorful cottons with white lace collars. In the cooler temperatures of fall and winter, they were plush and warm. The pockets were deep, filled with tissues and a pen, ready to take on the crossword puzzle in the morning paper. While sitting at the breakfast table, she’d look up and say something like “What word starts with a D and ends with a P and means….?” I knew I was home when Mom wore her housecoat.
After watching our mom wear her wardrobe favorite throughout our growing up years, my sister and I continue to celebrate this time honored tradition. It’s our rhythm of life and comes as naturally as breathing. We too, are morning housecoat people.
Hailing from different parts of the country, our visits with our mom always included slow, housecoat mornings. On the advent of one particular mid-autumn day, the air had a crisp apple chill, flavored with the sweet and spicy scent of longleaf pines which canopied her house. We sat around Mom’s beautiful wooden, octagon table, nestled into a corner of her kitchen. The walls surrounding it were decorated with pieces of art collected throughout the years; a sculptured French street cafe scene and a charcoal rendering of a New Orleans balcony. As if receiving a sacred invitation just for the three of us, we relished the gentle start of a new day dressed in our housecoats; fabrics with a splash of reddish orange hues, a plush purple, and a navy blue with bright geometric shapes. Somehow, coffee tasted better, raspberry jam spread smoother, and even bacon had just the right amount of crunch.
Housecoats enabled us to linger long, savoring multiple cups of fresh brew and rich conversations. Soul talk, was what we called it. Vulnerable and honest, we leaned into the unwanted parts of our stories, allowing them to do their tutoring work, transforming our hearts towards greater hope and trust. We cried when our hearts hurt and laughed ourselves silly when they didn’t. The kind of laughter that brings snorts to noses and tears to eyes. A laugh that makes it hard to breath and reaches down into the marrow of your bones; the best soul-healing medicine ever.
Inevitably, our talks took us down a trail that led to an imaginary world where we were queens for a day. We tossed around ideas that promised to bring order to the chaos, making our planet a better place for all humankind. Some women wear capes; we wore our housecoats! Housecoats gave us the time to soar into this make-believe world with ease, leaving us more emboldened to carry on with greater purpose and intentionality.
After a relaxing pace of morning chatter, we got down to business and planned our day. This was when the topic of conversation drifted towards dinner. “What are we having?” Our mom’s love for cooking was also passed down to both my sister and me. For tonight, we chose a simple meal of baked skinless chicken breasts topped with Swiss cheese and a white wine butter sauce, paired with a salad and baked potato, followed by a homemade pumpkin pie to celebrate the season. We made a list of ingredients to pick up from the store and decided it was time to get on with the day.
There we were, renewed and refreshed. The donning of our housecoats having accomplished its purpose during the in-between time of slipping out of bed and slipping into our clothes. We slowed down. We caught our breath. We drank in the goodness of life, delighting in every drop. One final exhale and we were ready. We opened our arms and together, we embraced the day.
What About You?
1. What does a slow, cozy morning look like to you?
2. Describe how such a morning feeds your soul.
3. Identify the people you’d like to share your cozy morning with.
4. Our days are busy and schedules are tight. How can you intentionally set aside a day to have a hygge morning?
