Misty Mornings
When it is Tuesday 8 am, the streets are quiet, and I am awake to this. Thick fog creeps down the sidewalk, into the silent apartment complexes and empty porches of our street. The world feels hidden from me, neatly encapsulated within the 10 feet that I can see. Mornings are spent alone.
There’s something a little calming, transitional even, about mid-February–winter is packed away like the thick coat in my closet and the livening California spring emerges. The trees are not so empty this time around, but instead prettily decorated with whitish flowers and peeking hints of pink and red. This is the closest view I have to a backyard.
I’m sitting inside the gated parking lot, carefully examining the charcoal gravel beneath my feet. It crunches a little under the weight of my boot. I’m thinking about 5 pm and sipping homemade coffee from a styrofoam cup. All this while, I wait for the sun to melt away the winter grey pall and give way to the bluest sky.
And I am reminded of you, me, the coffeemaker still running. The things I want to be. A pleasant memory slipping comfortably into your morning silences, the way you somehow slip into mine. The slight curves of your cheeks around your lips, uplifting even in the wake of cloudy days and misty mornings. And the things I’ll let you be. I’ve decided I’ll even let you be “Good Morning.”
Tags: coffee, daily, morning, photography, sights