(M) The Magic of Mornings

I have always had a special love for mornings. Maybe it's because some of my most vivid memories are of waking up with the sunrise and hearing my mom in the kitchen. She'd be making coffee, frying eggs, stirring thick gravy to spoon over fat biscuits... The kitchen always smelled of lemon Joy and bacon ...(and maybe floor wax). And Mom was always smiling- at least on the outside.


I would sit up and peep out the window and see the sun shining on the back yard like it was a stage. Before I knew it, all my brothers and sisters were up, ready to put on their shoes and head outside to play.

Mornings were a fresh canvas. 

The yard had not yet been crushed by our running feet, the gravel disturbed by our bicycles, or the dust kicked up in soft clouds around the swing set. Dew still clung to the grass, birds still sang in their nests, and the laughter and chatter of children had not yet pierced the summer sky.

Morning was ours.

And we slammed that screen door behind us as we skipped off the porch -and out into our arena of life.

Every morning we had another chance to become someone new. 

We were cowboys, Indians, G.I. Joes, Barbies, movie stars and monsters. We chose to be the Mom, the Dad, the Baby, or sometimes even the Dog. We were adults, we were animals, we were kids- and we were simply us. 

And I am still thankful to God that I woke up to all my childhood mornings in a happy place.


Yet, there were some mornings when I chose to be alone...to wander out by the lilac bushes or Mom's yellow roses and take in the fragrance of sweet perfumes. I would sit in the crook of the old "monkey tree" and sing songs, wander down the road to find neat rocks, or search the sea of grass to find lucky clovers.

My mind was always sharper then. 
New. 
Open to magic sounds- and smells -and words- that danced in my head and yearned to be molded into something extraordinary.

I think perhaps my love of color came from seeing the sunrise...its violet/ coral/ crimson display of a watercolor sky...The way the trees blossomed out in a hundred shades of green...and how the fields grew yellow with light as the day emerged... 

I still love the magic of mornings. 
When I awake and know that my husband is safe beside me, my favorite little dog is curled into a nest of blankets at my feet... 
and that the morning awaits my choice to become someone new.