The Morning Sun

Starts at

It’s one of those mornings that should’ve been like a zillion others, yet it isn’t.

But I remember what came before the morning. Not like a zillion.

And now: Sun rays through the window as I do a quick dishes. Enough to make me squint. But also to smile. And I usually hate the sun here.

I usually hate doing lunch boxes, too: A peanut butter sandwich for Michael and fruit only for Emma. Water. Some juice. That’s all. All that which I could usually hate.

But I don’t. I feel light. Like it all has taken on some hidden meaning that I was only too blind to see before.

“I get off early, I could pick up the kids,” Jon says while scrolling through today’s news on his phone with one hand and absentmindedly harpooning the bacon with another.

Jon never picks up the kids on Fridays. But never is far away this morning.

“That would be lovely,” I reply and the light continues. I put the last dish on the tray. Now everything will look neat when we all get home, and until that washing machine repairman can get his ass over here. But he doesn’t have to hurry, it seems. I got it.

And lord knows, I have got enough of this on my job. In 40 minutes and counting. But at least the car works today. And I have that, too.

The small blessings. Of the morning sun.

And not like a zillion.

Why can’t we have more in our lives of the things that make us a light inside?

*

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

Go through all stories and scenes in chronological order

Facebook
Twitter
Email

Labels for this story

You might also like ...

Sparkles In The Rain

Carrie tries to discuss some of her personal problems with her estranged father – perhaps too early.

Ground Control

Michael puts a serious problem into new perspective.

All I Wanna Say IS

It feels wonderful to explore mutual dreams for making it as an artist. Sometimes you just have to agree where the dreams end.