Usually, my mornings begin on the defense. A baby’s cry, a stumble out of bed (whose morning? mine or yours?), rushing together a lunch, socks, shoes, day-old coffee poured over ice.
This morning, I woke up at 6:15am, hoping that Hugh wouldn’t yet be awake. He wasn’t. I went for a short jog, waved hello to neighbors walking dogs, watering flowers. Did a sun salutation on the front porch (what I remembered of it). Made a fresh pot of coffee and our lunches. Then went upstairs to find a smiling toddler sitting in his crib.
Every morning won’t be like this. But I’m determined to create more of them. Good morning.