I want to stretch the hour of coffee and notebook all cozied up together in the big arm chair. That beautiful moment in time (didn’t Winnie-the-Pooh say?) when there’s a whole day ahead of you, but it doesn’t have to start just yet.
There is snow on the ground, on the trees, covering the car again. I gave in the moment I lifted the blind today.
They’re snacking on sugary cereal and watching cartoons- one of my favourite versions of morning as a kid. We’ll get around to the day eventually. The magic of this hour inevitably wears off even if I could stay here stuck to the chair all day, because,
Mom! There’s snow!
They’ll want to push it around. There’s real breakfast to make, another chapter in our lesson plans, math to be done.
I just saw a spider drop down a line on this side of the window. What kind of sign is that? I’ll take it to mean it’s a weaving day, a day of graceful work, a reminder to enjoy the miracle of everydayness.
There’s a loose tooth, a house made cozy by a cleaning day undone, the promise of a quiet afternoon ahead to choose again from the menu of solitude treats.