Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Two
I can feel it.
The way the light comes through the slats making stripes of shadow and light across my body. Mornings always feel so holy.
Granola. Blueberries. A splash of milk. Coffee.
I run to the store and get the things for the salad. And frozen waffles for the morning. I’ll make it easier on myself. I can do that.
I take the journal and the books and one more cup of coffee to the hammock. Half in the shade and half in the sun. The sounds from the movie floating from the open window. The neighbor is cutting his lawn. More thuds from falling fruit.
I sprinkle the feta cheese across the tops of the salad. If no one eats it, I won’t complain. I’l gladly eat it all myself.
It’s hard to be the new people in a group of people that really know each other. I think of the book I’m currently reading and how I’m living it right now in this moment. Without intention and real purpose you risk creating the exact opposite of the desired effect.
The next house will need a pool. A real one.
I make my way back to the hammock.
She thinks the munchkins of Munchkinland are a little creepy. She’s not wrong.