Good Morning

Though I can be a troll in the mornings, I do love waking up early. This morning, it was pre-sunrise when my eyes blinked open. Not dark, but barely light. I strolled through our clean house, into the barely lit kitchen and made coffee. Wiped the ice cream off the counter from yesterday, rinsed out the wine glasses that had been sitting on the coffee table.

In the living room, I pressed my palms on the window sill and leaned forward against the open window. Wet lying on everything. It rained over night. A breeze wrapped around me like a cool blanket. Cool. Not cold. Perfect.

I poured coffee and thought of how this morning reminded me so much of another one a couple years ago:

The night before, I'd come home from a work event and met up with Eric and some of his friends. I'd had one too many glasses of wine and, since the relationship was new, I was eager to impress him and his friends, not embarrass my wine-drinking self. To (over) compensate for the wine, I made a pot of coffee and drank the entire thing. It straightened me out a bit. I remember, as he changed the CD playing in his apartment, he told me he was crazy about me. I'd never forget it.

Miraculously, after all the coffee, sleep captured me after all. But, eventually, the wine wore off and the caffeine wore on. At 4 a.m. I opened my eyes to not dark but barely light, wide awake. A dark, cool morning in the Spring.

And, like today, that morning I also felt so happy and complete. The early morning was and still is like a private, dark time where I am truly alone with my thoughts and can cradle my happiness in my hands, smile at it, thank it and keep it just for me.