I woke up this morning from an exhausting sleep. They are all I seem to have recently. I don't need an alarm; I usually wake just before it starts to ring. And so it was this morning, my internal alarm went off. It tells me to get up, to force my pained limbs to move, to succumb to the morning hours. But I don't want to. I'm exhausted. I've pushed myself to far once again. It's a give and take. If I am doing nothing I am discontent, and if I do to much I exhaust myself, body and mind. I'm beginning to feel like a newborn deer, or a small rabbit. I'm so afraid of the world yet curious of what it holds. If I could hide in the grass away from my predators, I would.
How strange it is that I am excited for the forthcoming snowstorm. I'm picturing an unearthly quiet, a slight chill in the air, and a white light coming through my curtains that implies a certain snow. And all the while I lay in bed encircled by the arms of my boy.
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