I’m up early this morning, wrapped in my favorite robe and smiling smugly to myself. Responsibilities and appointments still miles away from my brain. Who knew there was a place where I was immune to all that? Where writing (the oxygen in my heart’s lungs) seems perfectly natural as I wait for the sun to rise? Tapping away in front of this glowing screen, jotting down ideas, reading just a little at a time because bursts of thought draw be back to typing once more.
It usually takes vast amounts of emotional energy getting to this place, and then half the time is spent swatting away distraction. The image of gray, peaceful mornings has been floating around in my head for a while, and this week I've decided to do whatever it takes so when Andrew rolls out of bed at the crack of dawn I can roll after him.
Not requiring my brain to wake up instantly, I keep the lights low, climb in something warm and comforting, and let myself slowly open up to morning over the espresso maker. Andrew showers, light from the bathroom and steam letting me rest in the sense that the day doesn’t need me yet. I can wander about the kitchen choosing mugs and grinding beans while he has the clock in mind.
In this space of time I am briefly insulated, with ideas running wild and a new day stretching out in front of me like a bolt of perfect pink silk, unfurled for my inspection. Excuse me while I go jump up and down for joy...
