Late-night Scribble

There are not many moments as beautiful as waking up early when most of the world is still asleep. I tiptoe to the kitchen lest my footsteps would wake my husband and daughter. Then through my small kitchen window, I try to catch a glimpse of the world outside: the tall pines, maples and birches, the grey-roofed houses and the azure sky. 

Every morning, the sky dons a new canvas - an endless canvas, I must add. On that endless canvas, a young child paints; he paints with orange, pink and yellow, haphazardly and on top of one another. 

On days when he is grumpy, he smears the canvas with blotches of gray - on those days you know the sky will burst open and drench everything below! 

During the summer months when the sun is up very early, the 6 o'clock sunshine glides through my kitchen window and floods the house. The yellow light falls on the cherry wood floor, the beige wall, the round dining table and the teal sofa. Tiny particles of dust dance in the air - a dusty dance, you can call it. I watch the glimmering flecks of dust in the sunlight - they whirl and twirl tirelessly - a dance that does not need music to complement. 

I brew myself a mug of coffee as I enjoy the dust dance and hear the crickets sing without a pause. Summer is a busy season for the crickets. Like the specks of dust that can dance without music, the crickets can sing without music, too! 

With a steaming coffee, I sit on the hardwood floor looking out the balcony door. On some days, a balmy breeze enters the home and caresses my hair. And while caressing my unkempt mane, it whispers into my ear, "Aren't you lucky to be able to wake up to so much beauty every day!"

I reply to the soft southern breeze, "I am. Yes, I am."