rare morning.

I set a goal for this week, to wake up at 6 every morning. This is day 2: 

I climbed out of bed at 6:05; bleary eyed, but determined. I switched on the lamp and turned up the heat because the house felt chilly. I wondered for a moment how I should start my day. I plugged in the Christmas lights and looked around my cluttered living room. First things first, I am going to tidy up this room while the children are out of the way. The sky outside our large living room window was dark as I worked, but I could see the darkness slowly beginning to fade into light. I skip vacuuming for now, it's too early.

I want to get the dishes done, but the couch looks inviting, so I settle in with a blanket and Book of Mormon. It's been so long since I read. I had made a reading goal for the year, but fell off track with it back in April and hadn't managed to get myself back into it. I pick up my phone and check my instagram notifications. Then notice the daily reading prompt from bofm365 on my home feed. I decide to read that.

I tried to read slowly and thoughtfully, but it was less than a chapter, so I finished quickly. The sky is much lighter, the clouds slightly tinged orange.

I reach for the December Ensign on my desk and read through that. My eyes feel tired. I need to stop reading. I kneel beside the couch to give thanks for the new day. Afterward, I realize this would be a great time to write, and turn on my computer. Then I change my mind. First, yoga.

I scan my memory, to recall the routine from one of the videos I have gotten from the library. It probably wasn't exact, but my practice was still pretty close. The sun touches the tips of the trees, giving the bare branches a golden glow. I hear the children talking in their room as I lay down for savasana. Breathe.

I can still hear them talking as I sit up again, the door begins to open as I whisper “Namaste.” I place my hands on my folded knees, the noise of the day begins to grow. I close my eyes and try to hang on to the quiet a moment longer. I hear footsteps. I open my eyes as my little two year old stumbles towards me. Arms open wide, he barrels into my for a big, good morning squeeze.

The sky outside is now a pale blue, thin gray clouds stretched out like blankets. The children are awake and talking my ear off. I can hear the baby talking to himself. The house comes to life.

Good Morning.