Today the sun shines brightly here in the Pacific Northwest, and the wind cuts cold, slicing through the hand-made cap upon my head, finding just the right pathway through the neckline of my jacket in order to touch that shoulder that aches a bit when the seasons change. So, I bundle up a little tighter, pour myself a cup of coffee and wrap up in a thick blanket to sit on the patio rocking chair to listen to the birds sing the last few praises before they travel south to avoid the winter storms. I can see my breath. Steam from my coffee fogs up my glasses.
Breathing in deeply, I feel the cold air rush into my lungs. It remains there, pausing for a long moment, growing warmer as oxygen moves into my bloodstream. Taking its place, the toxins, the used energy, are returned to my core. The chill has completely dissipated. I exhale slowly, wondering if you can feel what I feel, and see what I can see.
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| My Morning View - Photo by Trista Wynne |
My lips have lost their moisture now - stolen by the frigid wind - that rascally thief! The warm liquid soothes them, if only for a moment. My coffee is losing its comforting properties to the same bandit that wicked away the softness of my skin. I do not care. I am here with you. For this moment, that is enough.
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