I'm sitting here at my dining room table. We've recently placed it by the sliding glass doors so I now enjoy throwing open the curtains every morning and letting the light in. I'm still in my pajamas, face unwashed, and breakfast dishes are by my elbow. The house is quiet. Baby boy is sleeping upstairs. (Little man, we get the biggest kick out of how like your mother you are. How you like to snooze until 9 a.m. and how difficult you find waking up to be.) The Christmas tree lights are on and I've got a candle burning. I'm about to get another cup of coffee. Ordinary things, ordinary morning. But what is so wonderful to me right now is how I'm feeling. Content.
Oh, contentment. You've been elusive for so long. But now here you are again. It's funny how you show up at the oddest times. When the facets of my life are a bit in shambles or sort of up in the air or just plain crazy. Strangely, you show up. And I take a deep breath, drop my shoulders, and say a little prayer of thanks.
I'm sitting here looking at the frozen outside, wearing wools socks, and waiting for a little boy to wake up so I can kiss his cheeks. And I'm content. How 'bout that?
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