Through blurry eyes, I squint, willing focus to come, vision to materialize.
The numbers on the clock loom large, flashing that all too-familiar time before dawn, yet close enough for surrender.
With all too precious minutes dwindling before the day breaks and babies rise, I tread carefully out of bed, tiptoeing past a door left slightly ajar where innocent slumber rises and falls in a sweet, sweet rhythm.
Down through the darkness I creep, steps arising out of their own accord, a well-worn path to the bubble and brew, warm and comforting, the promise of a cup already heavy in my hands.
A gentle curl of cream makes its way lazily through, cutting dark into light, whispering a sweet finish.
Into the office, where I pause, just a moment to look at each beloved item, chosen, a representation of me, life, of family.
Pumpkins orange and round, the trickling fountain, pictures of family smiling wide. A single bloom, standing tall.
This, where words flow and I bow in reverence.
This, where coffee warms and silence reverberates in restoration.
This, my calm before the storm, no matter how beloved those winds may blow.