Morning Routines

Diene bolts up in his sleep, hearing rain pouring down and yet seeing sun stream in the window.

“What is that?” he asks, panicked that our plumbing is on the fritz.


But its just one of my many alarms on the new iPhone. I’ve gotten a little overly excited about the Nature Sounds and Alarmed Apps.  For the next ten minutes, I groggily poke at the screen, wondering exactly how I am supposed to snooze when there’s less than a minute between intervals.

I start recounting the dream I had last night — the Occupy movement surrounded our apartment and  while the suitcase I was guarding for a clergy was safe, my wallet had been stolen but then safely returned by  Tim Guinee who is ranting about getting off the grid while stealing cell phones — and I’m interrupted by a prehistoric sound.   I rush to the window and see the Sandhill Cranes are back this morning!

My morning walk takes me through the park, picking wild mulberries and raspberries, watching the golf course crew tend the greens before the first golfers, and cursing when my old flipflop finally succumbs to fate and leaves me limping with only one shoe.

I sip my morning coffe on the porch and  my husband tells me the zinnias will likely bloom today. I give him a kiss as he leaves for work.

“Have a good day,” we say in unison.  I already have and its still early.  I am grateful for that.

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