Winter, quiet and still.

August 4, 2011

I awaken every morning as the light seeps in the curtainless window above my bed.
And I stay.
Stay in the warm bed with the five year old’s body cuddled up. Her eyes locked shut by her extra long eyelashes.

I stay not to wake her, I stay not to interrupt the peace of my partner tapping away in the next room.

I lay and reflect, and write.
I write all of the blog posts in my drafts file. I write about children leaving, and coming home, I write about five year old birthdays and illnesses in winter. I write about festivals and friends and times past and present. I write about a friends’ early passing. I write about belief.

I write these all in my head as the sun rises and the little one whispers, “closer, closer”.

Outside the air is cool and sharp.. So is the water. The island is crisp and clear and slow.

And my blog lies waiting, all winter, quiet and still.

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