Motherhood does not come without an assortment of friendly advice. Some of it is useful and applicable though much of it – in my experience, is only nodded at and then stored away somewhere behind the left over birthday napkins from last year. As amusing as it is to list the unwelcome variety, today I am applying my focus to the former. And it’s a good one: Morning Quiet Time.
Finding the inspiration to rouse me from my bed before my children are up is a difficult – if not nearly impossible task but on one particular morning it was worth the effort.
I often use the I am a night person excuse, or take into account that I will have that time after school drop off. It is much easier to talk myself out of doing anything of worth, than it is to talk myself into it. But on one such morning I found myself taking that sage advice quite by accident. It was during a bad bout with insomnia last year and I simply couldn’t lay in bed any longer. I wrapped myself in my cheap, terrycloth bathrobe and transversed the great divide which is the hallway to my living-room and found myself in the company of my own reflections. It was a morning I will never forget because suddenly knowledge became wisdom in an intimate way. This poem was the result.
Beyond window panes the dawn still sleeps
And quiet thoughts from dreams will creep
From room to room inside these walls
And echo memories down the halls.
The chill still clings from night imposed,
But warmth of retrospection rose
To salve the bite. To balm the blows,
As only reminiscence knows.
Now all is calm and all is still.
The day will do as the day will.
These moments pass at a blurring pace
But morning always has her place
The sun will rise and set in time.
The warmth is theirs. The cool is mine.
Pleasures in the sun will fund
Sacred peace when day is done.