My dreams are filled with small moments and inside jokes. And so when I wake before the sun, before the children or the dog. Before the carefully stocked fire has burned down. I can not remember which life I am living. How is it possible to long for both?
This morning the snow was falling and the breaking dawn had turned the world a faded blue. The kind of color new parents would consider for their sons nursery before choosing something more uplifting. The air was cold on my cheeks and it took longer then it should have for me to realize I was barefoot. The world was still, exhaling before the day began. In a moment I will move. Knowing only that where ever the door I open takes me, somehow it will always be a step backwards.