Today, I am thankful for our morning ritual.
A few minutes past sunrise.
The best part of the day.
T wakes me up by dabbing his very cold nose against my cheek. "That time already?"
I better get up, pronto. If I sleep for just a few more minutes, I'll miss the magic. Then, I'll regret the "miss" the rest of the day.
We leave the house. I'm slightly groggy while T is energetic and excited to navigate the very familiar route to the park.
The late summer sun rises lazily in the east while the waning moon fades from the western sky.
Several high school students gather near the street corner, awaiting the bus.
We arrive at the park where T and I meet and greet other morning regulars: people and their dogs circling the park, enjoying a few minutes of peace and quiet before the day's madness begins.
And the magic. Well, it's all of this. The sunrise, the students at the bus stop, the park regulars, the walk, the wet grass, the cool breeze, the solitary hot air balloon, the cows grazing along the ridge, the wild bunny munching on grass.
Our morning ritual.
We're expected, after all.
So, we arrive on time.
Just in time,
As it turns out
Good morning, world.
For this blessing, I am grateful.