Sunrise

Being nocturnal is...well, dark. I wake up, there's no sunlight. I can watch the moon while I eat lunch. It feels cold in here no matter how much the heat is turned up. I just want to huddle in front of my PC in comfy clothes and not move or do anything useful.

But I get to see every day's sunrise.

As I write, the sun has been coming up for an hour. This is the time of day when my kitchen glows like home again after the long cold dark. When I see the sky lighten to blue through the cracks in the blinds it means it's almost time for Joe to come home from work...time to stretch, change from my nighttime sweatpants into something prettier, open the living-room blinds, start dinner, and start watching the driveway.

So dinner's cooking now. When he gets home, we'll eat, then we'll go to the Commissary.

Today I get to make a grocery list. It will say: fries cheese bacon browniemix icecream lemonade. 'Cause we were going to go to Ruby Tuesday's this weekend but then the dentist took our go-to-Ruby-Tuesday's-this-weekend money. So, instead, on Friday or Saturday we'll share a giant plate of bacon cheese fries and not share giant bowls of brownies à la mode and we'll stare at each other and smile a lot and it will be just as good as going out.

Seeing the sun come up fills me with gratitude and a kind of awe. I'm here again, just like yesterday, and I get to be part of this world for another day. I get to have one more day wonder, of simple joys and profound peace.

Today, I'll weave the routines of a household into a cloth of comfort. I'll dance with, cuddle with, laugh with my husband...and do his laundry...and clean, and cook, and absolutely love my life. My heart will praise the God who's given me everything, everything I could want.