It’s very dark and still at 5:27 am. Waking up as if it’s a weekday and suddenly remembering with a contented sigh. Ahh.. Sunday. Turning to my other side my body wants to go back to sleep, but not my mind.
Twenty minutes later, giving up and padding to the bathroom, then living room. Still quiet, but with a small stained glass lamp next to the couch now softly glowing.
Mornings speak to my soul.
Thinking back to my mother, up for some time before the three of us,
before breakfast and the hustle and bustle.
Remembering walking in on her in the kitchen, in her robe, with her coffee and the newspaper laid out before her. Sunlight streaming into the kitchen and reflecting off the shiny black kitchen table.
Feeling so content just knowing she was there.
Vanessa's Voice 
Ahh. The slow and beautiful Sunday morning. The present and the past were in your kitchen in this one moment together.
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Yes! Thank you.
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“Waking up as if it’s a weekday and suddenly remembering with a contented sigh. Ahh.. Sunday.” One of the most glorious moments. I can sense in your writing how much you value your mornings. What a meaningful ritual. Great post.
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I love what’s going on in your mind as you wake up. I’ve never captured that step by step in the moment… that’s my challenge tomorrow…although it will be hard… might have to wait until Tuesday.
Mornings speak to my soul too…
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The morning has a sacred quality to it, especially when you meet it on your own terms.
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Love how this slice starts in the present, mentions the past, goes to the past and ends with Mom always there! Beautiful! (I can relate to every line!) Thanks for sharing!
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The visualization of your mother is exquisite. A very well written slice!
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