Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Every now and then I wake up, stretch and notice that the light is slanting across the room in just the right way. Everything looks perfect , soft , and beautiful. The old dresser that used to belong to my parents looks as majestic as it did when I was a child. The brass knobs seem to hint of treasures within. The air is always just the right temperature on those mornings, with the breeze from the fan softly laying over my skin. The space under the covers next to Randy's skin is smooth and cool and perfect. On these rare mornings I become overwhelmed with a sense of rightness and peace. I know for just a moment that everything is right with the world. I know that there is still a Santa in the North Pole and Magic Fairies under the mushrooms of a cool dark forest. I can hear the kids breathing softly on the monitor. I can feel my husband's hand on my hip. I know that all of the reasons for my stress and worries are right there with me and worth every moment of chaos. I love those mornings.