Stillness

Morning is my favorite time of day.

I love the possibilities, the openness. The stillness. I love being alone with my thoughts, the fresh smell of ground coffee beans as I make a fresh pot, and the crispness in the air. A blank slate – it’s a new day.

This morning I woke up and the house was still. The world, for just a little while, was all mine.

I could hear the icicles cracking outside on the trees, and the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon. Bluejays were in the trees, a fresh coat of snow covered the ground, the air so cold I breathed it in gulps.

I couldn’t help but feel so small. I think that people who refuse to get up in the morning are missing something great, majestic; a time of day that is wide open and full of possibilities. The glass is half full.

There’s a lot in this world that I can’t control; heartache, car accidents, world peace. But in the wee hours of the morning I stopped to reflect my past year – my triumphs, my failures, my “i’ll try harder next time’s.” I can’t go back and change my past, the relationships that have come and gone, the times that I got my hopes up only to be disappointed. I can’t change my father’s diagnoses, my desire to teach, the warm in my heart when I look at my home all decorated for Christmas in reds, whites and greens, garland and twinkle lights, a 15-foot tree in the foyer.

But mornings make me want to be better, to do better. They makes me want to focus on my successes and accomplishments. To give more, love more, do more, to try harder. I’m going to move forward without looking back, and open myself up to new possibilities and adventures.

And as I sat there, looking outside at a world covered in white, breathing in fresh pine from my parent’s Christmas tree, I couldn’t help but reflect.

And now it’s time to forgive and forget. To move on, to move forward. I’m ready to embrace change, to be a better person. To step out of my comfort zone. To finally learn how to ski, wake at dawn in the middle of summer on my favorite lake in the world and listen to the loons, the still of the water. To do what I was destined to do, and be who I’m destined to be.

This has been a hard year, and I’m ready to move forward. To travel, create new memories in towns unknown, to sing at the top of my lungs with my windows down, to collect sea glass in bare feet in the middle of July. I’m going to say “yes” before I can say “no”, I’m going to watch more sunsets beside the ocean, see shooting stars, and drink margaritas.

A clean slate, just like morning. And I promise you, I’ll tell you that I’ve never felt so free.