01 02 03 Prone to Wander: Enveloped in my charcoal sofa couch with three throw pillows and my own pillow this morning, 04 05 15 16 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 31 32 33

Enveloped in my charcoal sofa couch with three throw pillows and my own pillow this morning,

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and I’m so at peace that I can’t help but wonder if this is for real. Outside, the darkness lightens just a bit, and the rain patters against the windowpane. The clock ticks, the refrigerator hums. The purple pen in my right hand and strong coffee steaming from my New York City souvenir mug are my tools. I can think clearer at 6 am these days. Weird to know, as my love for the morning hours only started two years or so ago. Who would have thought?  Kevin’s 16 paper airplanes are strewn all over the living room carpet. Usually, I scamper around to pick them up, but this morning I need them there, right where they are. David’s football shoes lay right here by the couch. They stink, and I kick them a few feet, but I need to still see them. The Battleship game, which Kevin and I faithfully play at least seven times a week, sits on the coffee table. Some of the white pegs fall to the rug. I need them there, right there. Raymond’s latest Lee Child book sit open, in the pillows of the couch, to the last page he read. I need it, too. I will this peace to stay with me. At this very moment, on a rainy Saturday morning in September, I’ve got it all.
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