Sunday Mornings

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Sunday mornings….tousled bed haired children running in to jump on your bed, giggling and dragging the cat in with them. Still in pajamas at 9, laying on the rug on the living room floor coloring and watching tv, while you shower and dress and get ready to start the day. Feet padding across the hard wood floors making that sound they make, the one you’ve come to know and love.

Down the back stairs and into the kitchen, it’s time to make breakfast. Squeals of delight peel in from the adjoining room as pancakes get tossed into the air and a hopeful pooch sitting nearby, closely watching, hopeful, for the one that will undoubtedly hit the floor. Milk, eggs, big mixing bowl, sit on the wooden island in the middle of the kitchen with the altered pot rack above it, where peppers and strings of garlic hang intertwined with twinkle lights and ivy.

Pour another cup of coffee and empty the pot, taking it outside on the patio, where big pots of herbs grow mixed with African Violets. Settling into an Adirondack chair with the last cup of coffee and the cross word puzzle from the morning paper, you gaze at the day ahead.

It will be spent pretty much the same…perhaps a little walk, kids and pets in tow, a light lunch, a sandwich will do, maybe some tv, painting in the adjoining studio, but basically, living each and every second. Loving these kids, these animals, this house, this life.

There, I typed it, now it’s real, it’s being drawn to me, I’m making it my reality. Changes can and do come when you are ready and open for them. I’m so excited.

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