Susan Rockrise

Twenty Eight Years

I am sitting perfectly happy and consciously grateful in the black darkness of early dawn. My trusted, and well worn, Patagonia puff ball jacket is zipped up over red flannel pajamas as I rest my wool-socked feet on the hearth of a wood burning river rock fireplace. I feel myself slowly awakened by the taste of that essential first sip of steaming coffee as the sun starts making its way up in the sky, reliably lighting up the majesty of the natural beauty surrounding a hundred year-old farmhouse