Early Sunday morning.
4:55 a.m.
Drinking Capri Sun fruit punch through a transparent thin straw.
Eating leftover Szechuan noodles with bits of pork, celery, peas, and other beans covered in a luscious thick sauce that is infused with a celery and cucumber fragrance even though there is no cucumber in the dish.
Reading online journals and breathing in their visual and written honesty and loveliness.
Enjoying my guestbook kisses, all of which are sealed in my memory and make my insides glow like a firefly.
Listening to the sounds of breathing of my sleeping husband in the adjacent bedroom.
Thinking how wonderful our little son is.
Wondering if I am going to purchase a Radiohead cd later on today.
Basking in the warmth and deep soft hum of the portable electric heater near the desk.
Wanting to write in my paper journal but preferring the computer keyboard and screen instead, like I almost always do. This must change. I want to see my handwriting again. Because it is beautiful and tangible and even more emotional at times.
Thanking life for my life and our lives.