This is no time for hurry or for bustle. Thoughts are slow and deep and golden in the morning.
It is early—some might say, too early. A saner person might roll over and go back to sleep, but I reach for my Kindle and finish the book I’ve been reading.
Maya stirs around 4:30 am and wants to go outside. I pull on her harness and attach the leash before opening the front door. It’s bear season and one never knows what creatures might be lurking at this time of year.
The moon is a bright sliver in the sky and the air is cool and fresh. I love this time of day. I wonder what the temperature is like where Gerry is—he’s away on a backpacking trip—I hope he’s warm enough in his tent.
Back in the house, I give Maya a treat and switch the coffeemaker on. We return to the bedroom where I open the door to let the fresh air in, and crawl back into bed with a stack of library books and a mug of soy milky frothy coffee.
The day stretches out in front of me with possibility. I consider options, then decide I’ll be like Scarlet O’Hara and think about it later. For now . . . just this quiet moment is enough.