Finding Gratitude Day 9: Cold Mornings

Cold toes that stretch from the bed onto the icy floor. Wet hair that seems to drip frozen water onto my back after my shower. Seeing the imaginary frost seemingly climb up the window panes. With each step down the long hallway, I wonder if I will ever be warm again, my bones almost creaking with every movement.

Then, I enter the kitchen, seeing Mom making tea for the morning, her herself cold and wanting warmth. Zak sits at the kitchen table tying his shoes, with his gloves, mittens, hat, and short-sleeved shirt on, Dad comes in from starting the car, also wanting to warm up the transportation that will carry us for the next hour, James sits in the chair as long as possible to escape his chores as much as he can, and Anna? She prattles on and on about this doll of hers, and this bird she saw, and anything else that comes into her mind, not caring whether anyone is listening or not.

And me? I'm gathered around the space heater, hoping that the heat will not scorch my skirt or catch any of my clothes on fire. I am happy, hearing the little one talk, listening to the teapot whistle, and Dad encouraging James to hop to it. The joys of cold mornings, oh, what we would miss!