mornings past

There’s something about the morning that brings me back to thousands of mornings gone by.  Nostalgia at its best.  

Back to the winter mornings when I was ten years old and the blizzard the night before cancelled school in New Jersey.  As I sleep in my warm bed my mom shares the news she heard on the radio. The darkness is still spread out before me and the hallway ends in the light that sneaks out of the kitchen and living room.  But I am cozy in my downstairs room... I could sleep, but, NO, I have to check out the snow!  Bliss.

Back to running down the hill so I won’t miss the school bus.  Seeing the grandmother clock's hands pointing at 8:10.  Gotta go!

Back to the sleepy mornings with a newborn.  Stumbling out of bed to meet the needs of a little life that needs me.  In every way.  Tired.  And yet the vulnerable, helpless, greedy gulps make the sleepy journey to the crib fade into pure joy as a need met was so easily fulfilled.  Love.

Back to two little girls at the kitchen table.  The warmth of the oven pushing out the sweet aroma of french toast sticks, the stove sizzling with bacon ... smiling, happy, giggly faces.... a favorite doll or blanket or stuffed toy in hand.  Sesame Street flickering in the background.  Warm hugs and snuggles abound.

Back to a spunky young dachshund making his way from the kitchen to the bedroom racing full speed and landing on my bed... burrowing under the blankets for fifteen more minutes of comfort.

Back to Easter mornings with baskets of treats, and Christmases with piles of presents.  Back to countless days of coffee brewing and the sun rising and spreading across the lawn and streaming through the windows.

Back to morning talks about everything and anything.  Sitting up in bed with coffee discussing the news of the day, the news of yesterday.  Children.  Love.  Silly dreams or deadly serious realities.  

Back to mornings meeting my sweetie come from Austin to share times that involved no one and nothing but us for a while.  How wonderful that it WAS.  Building something more precious than we knew or understood at the time.  Lasting.

I felt it once again.  Even in the midst of grief and the hard realities of life I felt it.  The joy of a new day dawning.  The peace in its beginning.

“Who would ever know the greater graces of comfort and perseverance, mercy and forgiveness, patience and courage, if no shadows fell over a life?” 

- Ann Voskamp