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Follow The Wandering Introvert on WordPress.com

Almost 5:30 in the morning, and I’ve not yet announced that I’m awake, though my partner knows, as he rustles around, making coffee in the nearby kitchen.

Outside, raindrops are busily hitting the ground, diving into puddles made of themselves, falling into the trash bins I now realize we forgot to set out on the street last night.

I contorted my body into all manner of shapes as I slept, to accommodate the puppy-dog who decided she wanted to sleep at the foot of my side of the bed. She grows larger in the night. She snores now, a gentle rumble that has the possibility of turning into something more majestic.

A car rolls by, the sound of water crescendoing into a wave before fading again, and I imagine the commencement of an early-morning adventure, though it’s just as likely (or more so) that it’s a neighbor en route to work. I suppose that could also be an adventure, of sorts.

My alarms keep telling me to wake up, get up, get going. But it’s so nice to lie under this down blanket, listening to the rain and the puppy-dog snores in the dark.

Good morning, I think to myself.

There are many opportunities for urgency no doubt headed my way; delaying them is not wrong. I’d like to carry the sound of the raindrops with me, a talisman for the simple glory of the moment that has, already, almost passed.

An alarm rings again, and this time, I’m ready.

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