It’s early Sunday morning. The sun isn’t yet up. I love this gentle quiet before the world around me rouses itself. There’s a fresh pot of coffee – that steaming first cup, so appreciated this cold Florida morning (it’s in the 30’s outside). The heat in my old house blows hot and cold. I’m thinking about wood stoves and how one would be lovely right now. My neighbor fires his up at the first hint of cold and even inside I can smell that earthy wood smoke.
A nephew will be in town tonight (although he’ll be incommunicado until after the Packer’s game) and it’s pleasant to contemplate that visit with my second coffee warming my fingers.
These small graces put me in mind of the young Americans in Afghanistan, where today is the 109th day of the tenth year of the war there.