I've been awake since 4:50AM. I tried to go back to sleep, but the bladder wouldn't hush up.
Then, my youngest came into bed. Instead of melting like peanut butter on warm toast between the furnace of my baby and husbands two sleep warmed bodies I decide to get up. Really, that just means coming downstairs with my phone so I can scroll thru Twitter and Facebook.
Scrolling fills me with sadness. There's so much hate on all sides. I try to move quickly pasts the tweets and articles about what happened. But I can't. The ugliness is there and needs to be seen so I will do something. Some small thing that will make the world better. I send up prayers for those that lost someone in Vegas. Prayers for those that are sitting in a hospital room in Vegas. I pray for the hardened broken hearts of those that would inflict this much violence anywhere.
I hear my husband's alarm. Ten minutes later I hear it again. As I'm finishing my digital crossword puzzle, he comes down in gym shorts and a t-shirt. Reminding me it's been about three weeks since I went to the gym. Longer than that for any type of consistent relationship between me and the gym. We're on a school break right now, so I guess it's gonna be another few days until I reconnect with an aerobic machine and weights.
The husband's early morning creativity calls out to my own. I go back upstairs and get my laptop and mouse. I make my cup of tea and a plate of toast with some Nutella. Opening up my web browser here is like reconnecting with my self. Hello, writer-self. There's been travel and school and work. A lot of distraction drowning out this part of myself.
But here, in the quiet of the morning. Before even the Sun makes its appearance, I hear and see this beautiful part of myself.
Then, my youngest came into bed. Instead of melting like peanut butter on warm toast between the furnace of my baby and husbands two sleep warmed bodies I decide to get up. Really, that just means coming downstairs with my phone so I can scroll thru Twitter and Facebook.
Scrolling fills me with sadness. There's so much hate on all sides. I try to move quickly pasts the tweets and articles about what happened. But I can't. The ugliness is there and needs to be seen so I will do something. Some small thing that will make the world better. I send up prayers for those that lost someone in Vegas. Prayers for those that are sitting in a hospital room in Vegas. I pray for the hardened broken hearts of those that would inflict this much violence anywhere.
I hear my husband's alarm. Ten minutes later I hear it again. As I'm finishing my digital crossword puzzle, he comes down in gym shorts and a t-shirt. Reminding me it's been about three weeks since I went to the gym. Longer than that for any type of consistent relationship between me and the gym. We're on a school break right now, so I guess it's gonna be another few days until I reconnect with an aerobic machine and weights.
The husband's early morning creativity calls out to my own. I go back upstairs and get my laptop and mouse. I make my cup of tea and a plate of toast with some Nutella. Opening up my web browser here is like reconnecting with my self. Hello, writer-self. There's been travel and school and work. A lot of distraction drowning out this part of myself.
But here, in the quiet of the morning. Before even the Sun makes its appearance, I hear and see this beautiful part of myself.
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