I shuffled out of bed around six. Still in my PJs, I grabbed my favorite mug and poured a cup of coffee.
The sitter/teacher called yesterday in a panic that the entire daycare/preschool had come down with hand, foot, and mouth disease. When I picked up Will, she showed me the beginning spots. She convinced me he'd wake up this morning looking like a leopard, so I went ahead and arranged for a sub.
When Will woke up completely spotless around seven, I couldn't deny him the excitement of a "mommy day," so I let him cozy up to me as we watched Curious George.
Around nine, I looked toward the front of the house. For the first time in probably a week, sun light was streaming in through the big windows. While Will worked on a puzzle, I grabbed my mug, went for a caffeine refill, and shuffled toward the warmth.
"It feels like winter, finally," I thought. I've been waiting for that transition to take root within me. The rooftops and grass were silver with frost, and steam was pouring from the rooftop vent of the house across the street.
I closed my eyes and brought the mug to my lips. I inhaled. Greg calls these moments my Folger's commercial moments, and I love them so. Nothing in the world could disturb this moment of respite, of peace. It's like I've plugged in to a battery charger, warming up head to toe, inside and out.
I've blogged before about how much I love sunlight pouring into windows and moving on the walls, creating warm spots where it lands. And with the way the wheels are spinning on this whole moving thing, I don't know how much longer I have to watch it through these windows.
So I snapped this photo--a tiny memento.
My favorite mug reads peace. it doesn't mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. it means to be in the midst of those things, and still be calm in your heart. -unknown
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