Sunday started the way I wanted it to. The girls still asleep and me on the deck, barefoot in shorts with a cup of my best attempt at making decent coffee. Sitting in a dew-slicked plastic Adirondack chair with a towel draped over it, facing east to watch the sun ease over the treetops. Breathing in the fading stillness, listening to a jay squawk his dominance over smaller birds. Bees behind me snacking on nectar, sometimes circling me to announce that I was inside their perimeter and they weren't all that pleased. Patiently listening to the world waking around me, a slow increase in traffic out on the street, a plane cutting a razorline across the sky, a voice indecipherable in the distance. A hawk winged past, just above the gable of the house. I could see the mottled detail on her feathers.
Me, coffee, the cool air, and for a little while, a shot at some inner stillness.
Sunday.
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