my mornings

I'm sitting at my desk, wrapped up in a towel from the shower I just took, behind two windows that span the lenght of my nook in the Cottage. A cup of the coffee I just French pressed is perched next to my right hand, steaming in a cup that my best friend gave me many years ago. It's a morning reminder for me. It says:

Be: be generous, be hopeful be confident, be forgiving, be joyful, be creative, be peaceful, be spunky, be adventerous, be honest, be fearless, be glad, and be delightfully you.

I realize on this morning that it's the first time I've actually read the whole cup. It's beautiful.

Next to my coffee is my bowl of warm oatmeal - instant, sugar-free. But don't let the sugar absence make you think I'm a super health nut. I ate almost a whole box of crackers last night.

I'm looking out the window at my beautiful German shepherd. She's sitting, her interest directed at a bird that flew in a tree. Sometimes, when I look at her and she's at attention, and then her watching eyes meander through the window where she knows I'm sitting, my heart gets choked up that she's actually mine. Laying down in front of her and gazing at her is Blue. He wants to play.

When they disappear from my sight, I call, "Skye!" and then she comes running from behind my car and through the open door of the Cottage to my side.

On my window sill in the dining room is a neat row of seed starter plants. Next to them is the newest project, which I finished this morning. An empty liter bottle tipped on its side with a hole cut in it and foliage planted inside. I have a stack of herb seeds on my counter to be planted in other liter bottles. I knew I was saving them for a reason.

On the counter is my Crock pot and the new batch of vegetarian chili I put together this morning. Further down the counter is my packed lunch in my little green lunch bag. From my laptop comes the sounds of my morning radio show.

Near my right elbow is my phone, buzzing with text messages from my sister letting me know that my nephew-dog isn't constipated anymore, and more texts from a friend. Emails are dinging through, clamoring for my attention. I scroll through them scanning for homicides, fatal accidents, emergencies that require my attention right now. The others I save for later.

I pluck my eyebrows, because they're a little out of control. I apply my standard amount of make-up - eyeliner. I check the clock - it's about time to start getting dressed and arrive in the newsroom.

But first I'll grab my bags, my notebooks, the newspapers I'm taking with me, I'll step outside into this beautiful day with the green grass under my feet and a paid-for car in the driveway, and I'll sigh and say something aloud along the lines of: "Thank you."