Today has the perfect morning to feed my soul.

The lake is calm, glass-like. The only ripples are the small shallow ones generated by the softest of breezes. The water so clear that you can still see the bottom clearly several feet from the shore. The opposite shore is clearly reflected on the surface of the lake providing a contrast of forest green among the blues of the water. The sun is shining, yet the air still holds the crisp coolness that is a remnant from the night before.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

A cup of hot coffee waits, liberally laced with the stuff that makes it palatable to me. The steam rising lazily in the morning air. Breakfast is still only a thought, and something I may yet get to. Even the thought of getting dressed in something other than my nightshirt is sounding a little too much like work, but it will have to happen. Maybe by noon. Maybe.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The lake is starting to wake up. Boats are making their appearance. Skiers out to take advantage of the perfect conditions. Their wakes marring an otherwise perfect picture. Those man-made waves make their way outward, and eventually make their their way to the shore, landing in a rhythm all their own.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

My husband is due to arrive today with my girls. Oh how I’ve missed them. Missed holding them. Missed seeing their faces. This weekend is in its infancy and it seems to be holding its breath, waiting. Just like me. Waiting.

So here I sit. Expectancy filling my very being. Waiting. Breathing.

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