I Love the Morning

A Simple Reflection on Beginning a Day

I love the morning, love the way it feels flowing through my veins as no day ever has.

I love the way the sun struggles to peek its head above the horizon and how, suddenly, everything comes into being. Just like Genesis.

I love my lover whose eyes squint in the dark as I sneak out of bed after lying awake for minutes that might have been hours, bending over to kiss her head and catching the scent of her skin—the first flower I will smell on this hazy winter day.

I love the snapshot of a fire I get as a gust of wet wind blows out the pilot light after only a minute or two. I adore the way my children slump down stairs and sometimes go right back to bed on the couch, while I make breakfast and piano music gently hums through the hifi.

I love the taste of Earl Grey on the tongue, the first drop of anything anyone has experienced. My lips have never touched anything so citrusy and bitter and good.

I love how anything is possible in the midst of a day still in its infancy, still in the process of becoming. I like how clear my thoughts are, how true and innocent everything is, how my mind has forgotten to cut up the world into tiny little abstractions and my eyes are just now learning to see.

I love the emptiness of it all, the rumblings of a stomach that doesn’t know if it is hungry or thirsty or just now waking up.

There is nothing to worry about, no schedule to keep, because time has not yet been born, and we are still in Eden exploring our own nakedness, wondering what good is wisdom when we have this to enjoy: the sound of boiling kettle and French toast sizzling on a skillet not yet warm enough to sear.

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