I’ve spent most of this summer away from screens and lost in the real world. Beach days full of swimming, sea-glass scavenging, and plenty of reading. Trying out new veg friendly restaurants and taking day trips in various parts of Connecticut. Doing my best to spend time with friends and family both far and wide, and also get a grip on a few home projects.
With all this adventuring, I found myself rarely staying home. Of course, there was also the company of daily 8 am construction as well as the summer heat in a bedroom that receives absolutely no cross breeze from the front of the house, that certainly had an influence over my not sleeping at home decision.
However, as we’ve moved into August, the days have cooled down, the construction got quieter, and I found myself realizing what I had, in part, given up all summer.
There is something utterly peaceful about waking up in your own room with no where to be. No rush of classes, no obligations, nada. When you wake up and can just wallow complacently in bed. It’s a time to meditate, to reflect, to get lost in a space tailored entirely to you.
This morning I took in my room, and all my strange trinkets. The nightstand I bought for myself, my crazy hand collection, the sundry of scarves, vests, and hats hanging on the wall. It felt nice to be one with this universe. On a whim, and ignoring the cry of authors coming from the pile of unread borrowed and recommended books beside my bed, I decided to drift into the pages of an old favorite in this centered space.
How do you spend those nothing to do/no where to be mornings?
an unrealized character 