Friday, September 24, 2010


My husband told me the other day that I was getting quieter.  When I get up in the morning, I’m making less noise.  I no longer tromp down the hall, bumping into things.  When putting on the coffee, or water for tea, I no longer bang the cabinet doors, etc.

I’m quieter because I cherish the solitude I receive first thing in the morning, before others start to stir.  I sit in my window seat and watch the day come alive. I watch as the sun casts its red glow against the trees in my front yard. I watch people running, walking their dogs, and heading off to work. I meditate, read, and study. I think about what needs to be done that day, about stuff in general.

This is my favorite time of day.  To get that solitude, I’ve had to learn to move stealthily  through the house.

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