I woke early this morning; slight drizzle, sound of hammers and someone singing in Spanish. A baritone. I have no idea what his words were; if he were singing of love or the grey sky or his goldfish at home but it sounded incredibly happy. So I woke early with the design to seize my day.

Today I could conquer the world. I could build bridges and float thru time. I could witness a miracle. Hell! I could be a miracle. So I padded down my miniature hallway and thru my long living room and made the corner to the kitchen. I pushed boxes aside and traveled thru the maze of unhung canvas in a determined manner to that beautiful contraption: the coffee pot. Fuel to feed this fire. And while it was brewing I took a shower. What would I do today? What couldn’t I do? I could grow wings.

Awake and refreshed, I let that first cup of coffee flow slowly. I sat. I relaxed and let my mind wonder. I dreamt of purple gardens. I slowly meandered over topics of which to write this very blog.  I made mental to do lists. I sank further into the chaise lounge and Zelda curled tighter up to me; purring ferociously. I poured another cup of coffee and did nothing but held the warm cup in my hands and breathed.

The sun is slowly beginning to peak out of those dark clouds and that man is still singing his song. So maybe just this, this very moment, is the miracle of my day. The miracle of being.

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