The Sun Blazes For Everyone
as it rises
under the lashes
of my own eyes, and I thought...
What is the name
of the deep breath I would take
over and over
for all of us? Call it
whatever you want, it is
happiness - Mary Oliver
I shuffle downstairs and into my studio at an hour when most people are nestled in their beds dreaming. I'm dreaming too, of course, with eyes open. My hands this time of year get cold easily. I slip them into woolens, fingers free to move, to touch. I get the coffee brewing, adding a pinch of cinnamon and cloves to the grinds then slowly make my way to each window, opening the blinds. Carefully. The floor creaks. I turn on the string lights in the studio and the room glows warm like candlelight, reflecting on the oak floor in small colorful puddles. The coffee is ready. The earthenware cup that you made for me warms quickly. The spoon makes a lovely tinging, like wind chimes, when I stir in a bit of sugar, raw and infused with vanilla bean. I sit and sip. Cup half full, I hear you padding downstairs.
"Good morning", you say, still smelling of sleep as I sink a kiss into your soft cheek.
"The sun is coming up", I say, "since most of the leaves have fallen we may be able to see it. We'll have to hurry though, no time to get dress, just our coats".
"What about Dad", you whisper.
"Let him sleep", I say.
"Mama, it's cold...look at the grass", you say softly. Frosty dew drops cling to blades like tiny pearls, their descent to Earth suspended in time.
"Yes, I know...we won't be long".
"I see it!"