It is early Sunday morning and I am the only one up.  Well, not entirely true, the dogs are milling around, not sure of what they want.  But it is so quiet.  I have the window open just a little for some fresh air and I hear the breeze blowing the leaves of the neighbor’s cottonwood trees. Such a peaceful sound.

The coffeepot gurgles, letting me know that my first cup of the day is ready.  There is nothing quite as good as that first sip; that hint of hot bitterness as it hits my tongue, along with just the right amount of sweet from the creamer.  Aaah.  Life is good today. 

I love this time of day.  I can be alone with my thoughts before any of the noises from the neighborhood start to intrude, or the ringing of the phone, or questions from my loved ones.  I feel like I can recharge my own batteries, reflect a little on my own soul, and look ahead to my day and get my head ready for whatever is coming.

My cat jumps on the arm of the chair with a questioning “Meow?”, and promptly sticks her nose in my coffee cup.  Oh well. It was almost gone, and cold anyway.  I hear the dogs crunching their kibble in the kitchen and know that soon they will want to go outside. I hear the bedroom door open upstairs, and my husband is up.  A big sigh, because the peace and quiet is over. 

But for a few moments, I had my perfect time.  Quiet, peaceful, with no distractions so I could think and reflect; maybe get an idea for the next great novel.  Who knows what could have come from that moment, but it’s gone now.  Life in my house has woken up.