Awhile back I was thinking that one sign of my old age is that I eat oatmeal every morning even though I hate it. I eat it because it’s good for me. I bury it in berries to make it palatable, but still I’d have to choke it down.

This morning at breakfast it was clear to me something had changed about my morning oatmeal. I actually enjoyed eating it. Not only that, I noticed I look forward to its part in my morning routine.

I love the little pot I cook it in. I admire its shape, the heavy, shiny stainless of it and how it is just the right size for my single portion of steel-cut. It takes 1.5 minutes for the berries to thaw in the microwave and 8 minutes for the oatmeal to cook in simmering water. I noticed all this.

I watch the oatmeal bubble in the pot once it has cooked for awhile and see how it falls out of the tipped pot and into the berry bowl all in one clump when it’s done. I stir it to get just the right mix of fruit and cereal. I noticed all this.

I take my second cup of coffee and the oatmeal to my dining room table. Day is here now, and I turn off the lights I needed when I started my day and appreciate how the sun illuminates the room. Lucy raises her head slightly and opens her eyes to look at me, then content that I am close, goes back to sleep in her place under the coffee table, a few feet from where I sit. I noticed all this.

I take my first bites of oatmeal and savor them ever so slowly. This has become my habit. When? I don’t know. But I have taken the advice that the savoring is important. The oatmeal is al dente. I feel its graininess against my tongue along with the smooth sweet and tart of the berries. I feel the mixture and the separateness of their flavors and textures at the same time.  I noticed all this.

Just after the third bite this morning, I am struck with surprise. The oatmeal is delicious. And then I feel a wave of gratitude rise in my heart. And I ride this wave as it swells and fills my heart with gratitude: for the oatmeal, for the berries, for the routine,  for the dog under the table, for the coming of light into the day,  for my home, for my presence in it—and onward and outward the wave of gratitude rises and swells.

I noticed all this. Good for me.