Or Because My Eyes Have Opened

I’m never sure exactly what wakes me. I’m never sure if my eyes are open to the smell of coffee, to the breeze off the lake and through the sunshine, or if to the glint of the blue stain glass, its twinkling. The cat is always purring gently, and I always wonder how long she’s been sitting there. I never know if she chirps her hello to open my eyes, or because my eyes have opened. It is one single sensation.

The breeze, oh that breeze, through the locusts, and bringing their magical scent through the window. Heaven. I awake. We stretch, pulling in more sunlight, breathing in the first of the day’s air. Six feet hit the floor. She is my keeper. We trot lightly to the kitchen, avoiding the front windows, scooping a coffee, and out we are into the wild of the back yard. We are a collection of motion towards the day.

Off she goes to the hunt, and I am left alone to tend to our garden. The neighbours have gone to work, leaving the street quiet to the breeze.

Written by: Adrienne Yeardye; Jupiter’s Hive