State of the morning

It's the last day of January. It's cold. The kind of cold that stifles motors and renders batteries useless. The moon is hanging low in the western sky outside my office window. I can almost see it moving as it descends. Soon it will be below the horizon. It seems to get bigger as it descends, but I know this is the magnifying effect of the atmosphere. It's rather magical all the same. I'm watching the first bus of the route leave. I think about how I will be on that bus Friday morning. The streets are quiet. In a couple of hours the street will be bumper to bumper traffic leading toward downtown. For now, the only sounds I hear are the clicking of the typing on the key pad and the fan whir of the computer. The coffee, freshly brewed, fills the house with a chewy aroma, and is robust as it slides down my throat. Spouse is sleeping on the couch, and Sara is sleeping on her doggie bed. Spouse is not sleeping on the couch because of some marital discord, no, this is his normal falling asleep place at least three times per week. The sun will not arrive for another hour or so, and then I will stand in the kitchen watching the sky as it hues orange, then pink, then powder blue. It is then I will prepare my bagel and cream cheese. I love this time of day, enjoying it solitarily, grateful, peaceful.

Later we have the eviction hearing before the judge. But there's no stress (I slept like a log last night - whoopee!) because no matter what happens, there will be another morning, another sunrise, another solitary routine. The moon will continue to set just as surely as the sun will rise. And I am comforted.