Sitting here drinking my coffee, I think of how much I love the mornings. It's my time to hang out with my husband and dog Chewbacca (now flying solo as Frodo crossed the rainbow bridge) and write and promote on social media. The Pixies playing in the background or maybe Nick Cave, or Bowie of course. An espresso. Two sugar cubes. Toast with jelly. I need all of these.
If only every day could stay at this time. Perpetually 6 am. Sunrises. No sunsets. Coffee only, no alcohol allowed.
Maybe I should write a story where the narrator lives only in the mornings. The rest of the time, she exists in never never land. Or maybe in Oz. Wearing a blue and white polka dot dress instead of gingham. With a dog named Chewbacca following her down the yellow brick road to an emerald city.
If I had ruby colored slippers (I only have a red rose in my hair, one that has no magical powers), I might wish this into being. Or Frodo back to life. But I don't. There is no tornado to take me away.
Instead, I sigh. My early morning is ending and I must face the day. I must.
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