It's 1:30 in the morning and I cant seem to fall asleep. So I will write.
Morning comes with a sense of new. I wake to light shining through the blinds making my room feel happy. I stretch under the sheets (it is too warm for a quilt) and lay sprawled out staring at the ceiling. My eyes wander; mocha walls, pictures of Eden and I on my dresser, the small red couch in the corner, the desk where I do my homework is clean for once, my closet is open exposing my assortment of shoes, shirts, pants, dresses, skirts, scarfs etc., the hat wrack by the door. I love my room. I sit up and lean against the wall, sheets covering my bare legs. I smile at the thought of today; its Saturday. I love Saturdays. My stomach growls and I agree it is time for breakfast. I pull on my pajama pants, put my hair in a french braid, and go upstairs. Everyone is gone this morning so I have the house to myself. I put some Jack Johnson on and make waffles for breakfast. While they cook I chop strawberries and bananas and make whipped cream. I dip a deformed strawberry in the white deliciousness and eat it. So sweet and creamy. The waffle iron dings and I pull out a golden brown waffle. I pile on a mountain of fruit and top it with a few dollops of whipped cream. I pour a glass of milk and take it and my plate outside. I sit in a cushioned chair on the deck and enjoy my breakfast. There is a breeze that catches the stray hairs around my face. Jack's voice carries through the open kitchen window. The sun shines on me and I welcome its brightness. It feels as if it is filling me up with joy and life and contentment. I sit a long while after my plate and glass are empty, just soaking in the sunlight and the perfection of the morning.
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