I am lying in the border lands between awake and dreaming.
I don’t want to get up. I’d rather stay snug and cozy in my bed, listening to my husband’s breathing, Beaumont’s snuffling from where he sleeps on the floor on the far side of the room.
A thought floats into my mind. There are many ways to raise a child and only one place to do it. Home.
Work rises early.
A family emergency homeless shelter never sleeps.
I must get up.
I get up.
It is still dark out. January days slowly lengthen. Morning has yet to lighten.
I paddle barefoot into the kitchen. Beaumont follows.
I turn the kettle on so I can make a cup of hot lemon and honey. Beaumont pads over to the far side of the dining room table, by the deck doors, plops his body on the ground and goes back to sleep.
Mug of hot lemon and honey in my hand, I light the candle on my desk, settle into my chair and fire up my laptop.
Outside, the river flows quickly beneath the bridge. A city bus travels westward. I cannot see the passengers inside. The lights of several cars follow. Unseen, the city slowly awakens farther to the west.
I sip my honey and lemon. Take a deep breath. Close my eyes. Quiet descends.
I felt my soul stir in her words. My heart give that little flutter like when you meet someone for the first time only to discover you have a world of friends and experiences in common. Possibilities of friendship expand.
I move into that space of familiarity, comfort. I begin to write.
Morning awakens. The day awaits. It is filled with unexplored opportunities to be kinder, bolder, braver, more.
On this day, Dare boldly to be kind. Dare boldly to give your heart away. Life is calling you to awaken.