Better days are here

It was Saturday, the last of my two rest days. I woke to the pitter-patter of rain on my apartment roof, with Munchkin curled beside me — cold, a little scared of the morning downpour, but safe in our blankets.  I couldn’t fall back asleep, yet I didn’t turn on the lights. It was a cozy, gray morning, the kind that makes you want to linger longer in bed and relax for awhile. 

Munchkin ran across the bed, meowing at the window — her way of telling me to open the curtains. I obliged, and there she was, wide-eyed at the world outside.

Her energy made me laugh, and I realized how much lighter mornings feel when the chores are already done the night before. A small discipline, a big reward: peace, and more time to redirect my energies to the activities I want to do before going back to work. 

I picked up my current read, The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Coelho, scribbled in my journal, and recited my morning affirmations. The day was already starting beautifully.

Hours passed in bed until I remembered my scheduled tasks: folding freshly washed clothes, rearranging furniture, organizing my bookshelf. Finally, I could set up my books without worrying about dust mites, molds, or moisture. That small progress felt like a blessing. I even hung my paintings, pinning them to the wall — little pieces of myself finding their place.

This is how I want to spend my rest days for now: living my answered prayers, and waking up to a slow and peaceful mornings. And I only hope I don't mishandle this. 

Always grateful,

E.