A Morning with Memories
One morning in June…
It is a pleasant June late morning. Through the open windows, I can hear the pleasant sound of the birds in the garden cheerfully warbling away. I did not go to sleep last night until the wee hours of the morning. I watched a film on Netflix that had me chuckling out loud. I read. I listened to music. I roamed about the house. Since I was awake, Pussycat kept suggesting that I should let him out. I ignored him. Finally, at about two in the morning, I got into bed. I must have slept as soon as my head hit the pillow.
The next thing I knew was that Ebony was snuggled next to me. I opened one eye and peered through curtains. It was light outside. Andrea had dropped off the puppies and gone. I gave a little sigh, closed my eyes, and dozed off. My four-legged family was getting impatient. Pussycat made a grande jetée from the window ledge behind the bed on top of my supine body. Picasso stood by the bed and whined plaintively. Ebony very politely nudged me with her dainty paws. ‘Alright! Alright! I’m getting up,’ I said as I groggily dragged myself out of bed.
I dressed and slowly made my way down the stairs. My entourage walked right behind me. As was my habit, I first put out some food at the back door for Timalena and Jadey and whichever cat wished to partake. Pussycat went out the back door as well. Picasso and Ebony waited politely for me to let them out the front. I shut the door behind them and prepared my own breakfast. Today I prepared some fruit and yogurt and my ever cup of tea. I opened the door to the porch and set my morning meal on the table, along with the book I am currently reading. I then led my pets into the porch. The pups curled up on the floor, Pussycat snuggled into my lap and purred happily away. The birds provided us with a cheerful medley of bird songs, and the breeze accompanied them gently. I had always wondered how music had begun, but I subconsciously knew. It was the sound of the birds and the breeze through the trees. It was the sound of children’s laughter. It was the trilling sound of the water rushing down the stream, the crashing to the shore. It was all the beautiful things that God created to make this world a pleasant place.
I felt content. The day was beautiful. I leaned back and sipped my tea. I looked across the table to where Peter usually would sit. I pictured him sitting opposite me. He smiles and says, ‘’It’s going to be a good day.’’ as he used to say.
‘’As long as you are in my heart and soul, Peter, it will always be a good day…’’