She’s awake and has no intentions of returning to sleep. First priority, another go at that whole pulling herself up to stand in her bed next to mine, since she was so good at it yesterday.. Success wipes across her face and is heard in her squeals. I pull the covers close to my face and foolishly deny that all of a sudden, she’ll want to sleep again. Who am I kidding, that has never been her thing. She must take after her father in the department of light sleepers.
So, it’s brie and pumpkin butter on Ezekiel bread with a cup of spicy chai.
I’ve heard tales of this mystical morning time, when most of the world is slowly rousing from its sleep and others intentionally claim these few hours in the name of peace, progress, and uninterrupted thought. But, as soon as the idea creeps into my mind, I remember how I haven’t sleep through the night since 2010 and I can’t even remember how long ago that was.
Still, I want to be that person. I really do.
Last night I wrote and when I entered the last bit of punctuation, a strange and beautiful thought crossed my mind. This is part of my book. It was involuntary. It was shocking. It was amazing.
And this morning, the fireplace is humming and warming my toes and this tea is seducing me with its lovely aroma and the blue is sweeping across the grey sky as the sun returns to keep guard of the day.
linking up with just write.