|A little something to start my -hopefully- consistent experience with First Drafts:|
Padding along the veranda, my bare feet reveling in the warmth of the wood beneath them, I settle onto the top step with a big blue mug of coffee.
The unusually warm day hits me, closing my eyes I tilt my cheek toward the sun, enjoying the rays as they dance along my skin.
I notice the birds, as if they came out of nowhere, their song sounding foreign at first, then familiar. I’ve missed their symphony, the sight of their flight from tree to tree, playing in the sky; I’ve missed the fresh air, the cool breeze, the feeling of everything being alive.
It lends me calm and it lends me peace.
If only for a few moments, the rest of the world is sleeping, but I am here sitting silently watching all of this take shape. I hear water running, snow and ice melting, the soft ground bubbling, my heart beating.
Behind the glass patio doors at my back is a noisy house.
It is filled with animals and housework and bills and a boyfriend that sleeps in the rays of sunlight filtering through the upstairs window.
There is comforting chaos in there, constant noise, carpets that need cleaning and something is always slightly out of place.
It is home though, it is my life, what I love, what I have helped accomplish and a space which always comforts me.
Sitting outside in this early spring tease is the brief change I need to revitalize, regroup and find new appreciation for everything behind those glass doors.
I am still a trespasser into this bright day, I am still watching although I was never officially granted access.
I take a final breath, my eyes closed, enjoying the smells and the sounds and the last sip of coffee.
For fear that I have stayed too long, that I’ll be noticed and somehow destroy the perfect day, I pad my way back through the sliding door and slip into my slightly altered perfection inside.