in the morning, through the window shade

December 3, 2006

there’s something indescribably beautiful about waking on a Sunday in the sunlight, the edges of the world all soft and golden.  a warm cat body at the edge of the pillow, dust motes in the air, lace curtains.

family talking through half-open doors – little sister laughing, dad’s smiling.  voices so well known, so unknown.  

floating.  still dreaming.  still sleeping.

alone, but not alone at all.

every time i convince myself i won’t miss it here, i suddenly realize i will.


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