To wake up and smell the coffee, first you have to wake up and make the coffee. This is harder than it sounds but not impossible.

Hmmm. When I am conscious that I didn’t pre-post anything on the blog last night, I write self-conscious blather. When I am free to soar, my mind wanders to distant stars and running across a sunny field laughing in the tall grass and surprised by scurrying critters and the occasional deer.

Oh, let me be unleashed from (and here he dozed briefly, because the coffee was still percolating).

I dreamed the sun was shining and I was grateful. First I copped out and said there was too much gratitude to list it all, but then I got specific and the list went on and on. I was even grateful that my feet didn’t hurt just then. There was the still-sleeping dog and the drowsy woman by her side and the cat nudging around with its early-warning sign that breakfast was nigh. There was this solid house on a hill by the field and the woods, and the signs of early spring, and so much, oh so much to be grateful for, and any worries refused to surface for a few glorious minutes before the sun rose.

So much to do and time was finite. So much to see and drink in, too much to process in one lifetime, but isn’t it wonderful that you never run out of things to wonder at?

Once you pass the point when you have less time to live than time lived, you see the value of it all and cherish it all the more. Blessed are the ones who have cherished it all the way along the journey and squandered not a minute of their wonder and awe and oh my goodness isn’t it beautiful.

This is not a sentiment of regret I’m sharing here, it’s a, well, gratitude for how deep is my wonder now.

Ah, the gurgling of the coffee machine and the aroma in the air signal it’s time for the reverie to conclude, and the cat really must insist I attend to her requirements. Perhaps she will be content with a rub behind the ears while I sip my morning brew.