The Trouble with Mornings

Sometimes my mornings start out slow. I wake up, and snuggle down into the warm covers, drifting off to sleep again. But some mornings, my body, once awake, does not drift off again. It lays there, ready to go, waiting for my mind to catch up and realize it’s time to start the day.

Sometimes my mornings start out quick. Up and at ’em. Things to do, let’s get started. Sometimes though, I sit in my chair and let my thoughts drift. No motivation to write or to read or to create. Just observing the quiet. Noticing the stitches of my quilt, the tick of the clock, the warmth of the tea cup in my hand.

I had plans for this morning, this blog post. But this morning had other plans for me. No matter. There will be another morning tomorrow, to make good on all of those plans. For now I will sit in the quiet and ponder the personality of mornings. How each one unfolds in its own way.

And that’s ok.

The only trouble with mornings is that they come just once a day.

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