Here's something I've come to
crave and love with a sincere strength: the sounds that rustle in the quiet of our home, on an early weekend morning. Still half-drawn, the blinds filter a creamy half-light so, at first, only half of our living area has any sun. I usually take my coffee and snuggle, blanket and book, into the patch that falls across the left wing of our sofa. A hazy quiet, a sleepy quiet still fills our home, wall to wall. And for a good thirty minutes or so, the only things that disturb that quiet are the muffled ticking of the kitchen clock, the rustle of my book pages, and the snuffled breathing of my husband still snoozing away in the other room. I'm the early riser, not him. Even after a late night, I make myself get up just so I can enjoy these little cozy moments, all alone and listening.
And this dark, steaming mug of joe makes it all the better.
Day 17: I think I missed a few days... I guess I'm a little lackadaisical in my thanks-giving. Today, I'm thankful for the fluttery excitement that signals the imminent arrival of a holiday. Sometimes I think the best part of a holiday is the anticipation and planning. But the time spent laughing and talking and sipping hot drinks with family is pretty spectacular too.
