The alarm clock goes off. I press snooze. Soon 6:30 AM becomes 7 o’clock. Getting to school on time seems impossible. I’m barely awake and it’s hard to focus while I’m thinking about the two tests, one quiz, and one project that I had stayed up so late for the previous night.

I get out of bed and run to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Before the tap has completely been turned off, I’m already sitting in the kitchen trying to eat my breakfast. While eating, I check the weather to plan what clothes to wear that day. I put the dishes into the sink and quickly pick my clothes, and rush into the shower. Right as I get out, I pick up my backpack, and I get inside in the blue Nissan Leaf that is parked in my garage.

I always sit in the rear seat while going to school. I’m not sure why. I just do. It might be because it’s always where I have sat while driving to school, just as any other kid would. In a sense, it keeps me grounded and reminds me that I’m just a kid.

During most car rides, I am either fiddling on my phone or talking to whoever is in the car, but I can’t seem to follow that routine in the morning. There is something different about morning car rides that I seem to enjoy. I relish staring endlessly off into the busy highway in complete silence as I see the morning sky that always appears more whitish than the popular blue. There is something about the faint mist that travels by even when it is not supposed to be the coldest day of the week. I even enjoy hearing the same overplayed radio songs (even the ones I don’t like) playing in the background. I love everything about it and anything that disturbs my mindless routine throws me completely off.

My dad always drops me off at school in the morning. It is how it’s been since as long as I can remember. And although I value his opinion and his words, I can’t seem to appreciate it when it appears in “my morning car ride.” I snap back begging for the silence that always gets me a stern look a few minutes later. But no one seems to understand what these ten or fifteen minutes in the car in the morning mean to me. Voices or any other sounds disturb my meaningless trance into a neverending life that is more relaxing than ever. I have always seen kids furiously studying in the car, and I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the idea of sacrificing that time that I can say is all my own. This car ride is not just a car ride. It serves as the “mindful minute” (or minutes in this case) that everyone needs.

I soon find myself at the traffic light at the exit of 280 that never turns green. Yet, the so-called wait is not that painful for me. Even if I check the clock that appears in the corner of the dashboard of the car that reads 7:54 a.m. I still feel on top of the world doing absolutely nothing.

Soon enough, I see the Upper School Campus and the car stops in the back loading zone. I leave the car and I walk into my first period journalism class. As I calmly set down my backpack and sit down on the cozy gray couch in the center of the room, I cannot believe that just one hour ago I was in my pajamas struggling to get out of bed.

Everyone has his or her way of relaxing and centering his or her mind. For some its playing sports, listening to music, reading a book, or even sleeping, but for me as odd as it sounds, it is the car ride to school. I guess it shows how important stopping and thinking is even in the hustle and bustle of life.