In Focus: This Morning

I woke up and decided to write, so appreciative of the spaces in which I can do so. XO

There is nail polish in the trash. The leftover red sidelined for brighter, fuller bottles, and an ancient gold already dried at the base of the bottle. It was ready to go. The kitchen is messy clean, and deliberate piles of pretty things strew the surfaces — last night’s earrings, a steadily decaying rose tucked into yesterday’s hairstyle. A jar of crystallized honey watches from the window sill, seemingly sunlit at all hours of the day, alongside a bag of chocolate-smelling coffee grounds. The house is quiet. Last night it was filled with the sound of wonderful laughter, some of the best laughter I know. As I brew coffee, I lament that I didn’t wake up in time to beat the burgeoning heat. It’s almost too warm for hot coffee, but I am a purist. And I can’t help that the beautiful attic space in which I’m staying for this weekend is also the definition of heat rises. My slumber was punctuated by feet kicked from heavy covers, wakeful starts from sweltering, knocking me out of my dreams. At 2 am, I’d shuffled outside, half asleep, and audibly gasped at the sweet cool air washing over flushed skin. I’d stood there for a while — unable to see the stars in their entirety (due to my astigmatic eyes) and yet feeling such relief at simply knowing they were there.

So, all that to say, I woke up late this morning, slumbering through the last moments of cool morning air before the day set in. Now, birds are flitting easily, a conversation is being had, and the sway of the Manzanita bush throws shadows on the pavement. You can hear the sounds of coffee being ground from the house across the street. Yesterday I coaxed myself into the ocean, running back and forth between my book on the beach and ankle-level water until I could handle the ice-cold waves, or at least was growing tired of running. So I threw myself in, spluttered out, and sat on the beach until I could feel my toes again. Who knows what today will bring, but I really ought to brush yesterday’s salt out of my already tangle-prone hair. There is an ease to ocean-side dishevelment, the acceptance of sand between your toes, and the general roughness of the water as it dries upon your skin. Come as you are, sleep through the heat, dive into the Pacific, and count your blessings like waves. This morning is a beautiful, sweet-filled start to a day.