This morning I pulled on fuzzy grey tights, a grey wool skirt and a warm nubby brown wool sweater that is long and warm with a turtleneck. I twisted my hair up into a messy bun with bits sticking out all over, stuck my reading glasses on top of my head and slid my watch on over my right hand. I slipped into my doc boots and went down to make some coffee.
No one else got up in time so I went into the den, closed the door to keep all the heat in the house from leaving and I opened the french doors all the way and I stood in the -45 degree morning and watched the sun rise between the pine trees in my backyard, the magenta glow highlighting the Victorian roof peaks of other houses in our neighborhood. The world was still and quiet. A time to reflect. A time to embrace myself as me, just plain old me, here to greet the day and consume my piece of the planet pie and leave my tiny mark which isn't really a mark so much as a chip on the rim of life's cup.
One that could cut you if you aren't careful but one that you ignore because the cup itself is so pretty and it's your favorite. So you carefully turn Bridget to the outside so that she won't cause any problems and you watch the sunset and sip from the smooth side, the unmarked side, the place that you will stake out to leave your own mark.
Soon the noises and smells of everyone up for breakfast came filtering down the hall and I reluctantly acknowledged the end of the dawn of the morning and went to join my children for waffles and fruit. Ben did not get up and join us because he's having a lazy day and will sleep for a while yet, I imagine but it's okay.
There will be another sunrise tomorrow.
