One of my favorite things to do on cold mornings is to wake up in bed and stay there, warm and thankful to be where I am.
I think about my bed and how it holds me all night long. How my sheets and blankets have just the right amount of heft to make me feel tucked in and safe.
My floors, wood under bare feet, the bathroom with only one sink, exactly what I wanted, an amount of space Goldilocks-sized for one, just right.
I am grateful to be here, safe, without threat from fire or flood.
I am grateful for Roxie and how far she and I have come together. She follows me into the bedroom at night, curling up in her round bed. When I turned on the light to write this, Roxie raised her head to see me. “It’s not time to get up yet, is it?” When I picked up my pen and composition book, her head went back down, her eyes closed.
It’s cozy in my home, in my life, and I don’t take it for granted.
Chewing the Cud of Good
Thankful for Trent, still.
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