As I have done hundreds of times before, I sat on my back stoop to watch my dog sniffing the corners of our yard this morning. Steaming cup of coffee in my hand, I sip and reflect, as I have on many similar mornings, on how I don't want to forget. I want to capture this moment and hold it in my hand forever. Nothing could be better than the coolness of the cement seeping through my pajamas and hot hazelnut coffee on my tongue.
The morning doves are in competition with the finches for Best Vocalists. Occasionally, they are both beaten out by the echoes of airplanes as they begin their descent into Midway.
The air has that special quality to it that only exists in the moments before the sun fully rises. Slightly thick with humidity, but still cool and calm. It's air that is full of promise and possibility.
Penny spied something in the tall spring grass by the fenceline. It has grown thick and lush in that area, thanks to the choices our dog makes in where she does her business. It's hilarious to watch this dog darting through the grass and weeds; she's so cautious about where she puts her feet, but SO anxious to finally catch that rabbit.
This is the good stuff. Mornings like these are what I live for. I don't need fancy trips or clothes. Though I love traveling and adventures, the view outside of my own back door is enough to settle my soul for the day. The list of tasks I hope to accomplish today isn't overwhelming and includes activities I'm actually looking forward to. Sorting books for the freshly cleaned book shelves. School with the kids and making lesson plans for next week. Eating those cinnamon rolls that I put in the oven earlier... There is still a lot (A LOT) to do, but it doesn't overwhelm me when I am able to breathe the morning air in the solitude of my own back step.
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