Snow Moon by Liz Flaherty

This morning, when I started outside to go to my office, the door was frozen shut. I couldn't budge it. Still wearing my coat with a banana and my phone in the pockets and my snow boots without socks, I wandered around the kitchen for a minute, trying to decide what to do. I didn't want to break the door, obviously. 

I thought of going out the front door. I'm sure it's not frozen, but I wouldn't be able to lock it behind me, either, and what if Duane gets up, sees the deadbolt is unengaged, and locks me out? Not that he would lock me out on purpose...at least, I don't think he would...but habit and sleepiness are a lethal combination.

I thought of my kids waking us by knocking on our bedroom window when we locked them out. Kari says she mastered crawling in one of the old windows, but I slept through that part. I'm sorry, again, for locking them out; it truly wasn't intentional. We didn't move while they were gone, though--that's something.

So I'm on my laptop in the house this morning. It's the way I wrote for years, so I have no reason for making a big deal of it other than now it feels odd. Instead of the sunrise out the French doors, I see the TV across the room. The coffee in the house is different from what I drink in the office. The noises of a 100-year-old house are different from those of a 20-year-old garage. 

But mornings are still magic times for me. There are obvious detractions about being a morning person. Running out of energy by noon and requiring afternoon naps comes to mind. Cooking after four o'clock, being out after dark, or still dressed at nine PM are things that should never be expected from a morning person. 

But we get to see the sun come up. We get silent time if we want it. Whatever busyness we surround ourselves with is of our own choosing. Did I mention we get to see the sun come up?

However.

Last night, driving home (after dark) we saw the huge, orangey moon climbing up over the eastern horizon. Although I had yawned all the way home and was having delicious robe-and-slippers thoughts, that moon gave me serious pause. I stared out the window for several miles, watching it. I didn't even try to take its picture, but I hope someone did. The one above is from Canva. I think last night's was better. 

There's no plot to the story from the Window today. No moral. No indignation or sorrow on my part. Maybe it's a reminder, though, to me if not to you, that even though our lives come with lots of frozen doors and the occasional lockout, we still have sunrises, sunsets, and that spectacular moon.

Have a great week. Be safe and well. Be nice to somebody. 

Liz