up

most mornings, I wake before the rest of the house opens its sleepy eyes.

especially since daylight saving time last weekend, rowan has been going down at her usual bedtime, but waking an hour later. my body is still accustomed to waking at 5:30 or so in anticipation of her little voice, talking to herself and letting out long, loud calls to us to come and get her after a long night of sleep.

many days, I stay in bed, tossing and turning and trying to get back to sleep [I rarely succeed] until I hear noise in the monitor. I then roll out of bed and into the bathroom, splashing water on my face and praying for grace for our day.

on the best mornings, I get out of bed shortly after my internal clock alerts me of the day's beginning. I make a cup of creamy coffee and quiet myself for a few moments in the stillness before the sunrise.

on days like today, my bible is opened and my pen is poised above the page, waiting, eager for the words to fill its white space. my homemade planner and catch-all notebook sit at the ready for quick inspiration or half-forgotten to-dos.

and then I hear her.

she moves quickly [note the blur in the photo]; her excitement for the new day is infectious and we laugh together as I say good morning, pulling her close for big hugs.

she's eight months old today. eight months too old for the fresh newborn I see in my arms. 

no matter the months that pass, I'll always see the same girl.
the one who greets me in the morning.