Mornings

Morning is my favorite time.

The quiet. The solitude. Nothing but Dehlia’s steady, rhythmic breathing and the occasional rustle as I flip the pages of my book.

The smell of coffee, flavored lightly with vanilla and cinnamon, wafts up from my cup and tickles my nose.

Soft white light creeps in through the windows and stretches slowly across the living room floor, bathing the room in an ethereal glow.

The shadows recede, and the day presents itself.

Like clockwork. It’s a pattern. A cherished ritual.

7 AM.

_____________________

"Morning is when the wick is lit. A flame ignited, the day delighted with heat and light, we start the fight for something more than before."
-- Jeb Dickerson