She forever cherishes the weekend mornings

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Lauren Brace

A simple photo of my backyard from the perspective of where I sit in the morning.

She wakes to the sun peaking through the curtains, enveloped in a blanket of warmth and comfort. Her mind is hazy as the last memories from her dream slip away, and she can’t avoid the smile that slowly spreads across her features. There is a soothing sense of peace and relaxation. 

Reaching her arms up to the sky with a yawn, she gazes around the room decorated with her life. Her book awaits patiently since last night’s chapter. Her chrome book’s blinking light signals that it’s charged and ready to go, and her walls are adorned with the smiling faces of friends and family—a small collection of memories that remind her of the joy in the world.

The air is full of decisions, and she can choose to either fall back into the patterns of what’s lazy and comfortable or get up and seize the day. Usually, she finds herself in the happiest medium of both options. 

When she was younger, she would wait patiently in her bed for the clock to reveal one seven and two zeros in that perfect order. At that magical time, she was allowed to throw off her covers and leave her room to embrace all that the morning had in store. 

For just a moment, it feels that all the time in the world is resting on the palm of her hand. She writes while the rest of the world sleeps, and her mind is awakened with renewed energy.

Now, she will often still wait for the perfect moment to slip down the stairs. She fills the kitchen with the sweet aroma of Hazelnut coffee, and the birds chirp their welcome. The winged creatures flitter about the backyard, singing a call-and-response melody of friendship. Hearing their song and relaxing in her corner of the couch, she is rewarded with one of those rare instances where everything is in balance.

With only her cup of coffee, a new book, and her notebook, she is content. For just a moment, it feels that all the time in the world is resting on the palm of her hand. She writes while the rest of the world sleeps, and her mind is awakened with renewed energy. This feeling of independent productivity is contagious—becoming addicted to the slashes she inscribes on every To-Do list. 

When she has the morning all to herself, the worries of the past fade away. The rising sun is a time-old symbol of a fresh and promising beginning. She mentally details her plans for the rest of the day, but in a manner that is far from stressful; in contrast, she is in complete control of her life. 

Continuing to pour her heart into her passions, a soft melody plays in the background of her thoughts, accompanying the flow of words bursting from her fingertips. Other thoughts attempt to weed their way into the background, but they only last for a fleeting moment and flitter away as quickly as they came. 

During this significant time of the week, she feels whole with restored confidence. She feels grateful for the time she is given to simply relax. She feels happy. 

Day after day, she will continue reaching for the sun, submitting herself to its rising patterns. Continuing to hold on tight to every minute, she will forever cherish these weekend mornings.