Lisa A. Kramer

Author, Speaker, Theater Artist, Creativity Facilitator

Morning Moments

I wake, early as usual, torn between relishing the moments of silence and yearning to return to sleep.  I glance over to my daughter sleeping beside me, after a middle of the night journey into my room.

"I can't sleep," she said.

"Climb in," I said, too tired to fight.

I didn't notice until this morning that she brought my old teddy bear blanket with her, remnant of my college days that has now become her safety zone, her comfort.

[caption id="attachment_6763" align="aligncenter" width="584"]Warm, Cozy, Safe Warm, Cozy, Safe[/caption]

I know sleep will not return, so I take a chance and turn on the light. Nothing wakes her. I open a book, inspirational, beautiful, awe-inspiring. Written by my former professor, the prose makes me aspire to become a better writer, but at the same time makes me doubt that will ever happen.
"Feeling better than she had for ages, she watched Aidan tramp toward the woods. Before when she'd tried to catch even a little ole breeze, it'd just blown through her hand. She sighed. A magic man for sure, he was tall and handsome and wild--eyes the color of Spanish moss and hair as dark as coal. He carried a scent of hard work, strong drink, and heavy sorrow. Aunt Elisa and Uncle Ladd watched him too, 'til he was a streak of light among the dark pines. She had someone to believe in her how. And didn't that make all the difference?"  (Andrea Hairston, Redwood and Wildfire)
I yearn to find my voice.

The alarm goes of to the same song that wakes me every morning with its gentle tones. I should listen to that CD more often, I think. It soothes me. It calms me.

I wish for a few more moments of silence. Of peace. But I must get Sarah up and moving for a non-stop day that starts with a "Pirate Picnic" at school, ends with a dress rehearsal for her dance recital on Saturday, and also includes an orthodontist appointment, trips back and forth to school, and the unpleasant cleaning of the refrigerator that must happen before trash day tomorrow.


[caption id="attachment_6769" align="aligncenter" width="584"]Pirate Captain Sarah with a visiting Pirate at the Pirate Picnic. Do pirates have picnics? Pirate Captain Sarah with a visiting Pirate at the Pirate Picnic. Do pirates have picnics?[/caption]

We spent yesterday afternoon getting ready for today, or so I thought. "Why don't you pull out your pirate outfit so its ready for the morning?" I said.

She did . . . she pulled out a shirt. I guess I should have checked.

"What should I wear under this shirt? Where are my undershirts, I can't find them? I don't know where I put them! What pants should I wear? I wish I could have the right earrings? What do you mean hoops, I don't have hoops?" {she does, including my old ones} "Can you tie my shirt better? I need my bandana, I wish I had one that looks more like a pirate. What do you mean I do? Oh, yeah the one with the skull and the cross bones and the ears. I don't think we have time to remove the ears."

"We would have if you had done as I asked yesterday," I point out. My comment falls on deaf ears.

Meanwhile, amidst the chaos I manage to get her fed, dressed, and out the door where she stops and says in a voice that contains the mystery of the universe, a whisper of awe and power:
I look over to see a large rabbit sitting and watching the world from the center of my yard. Of course, I don't have my camera, and it's time for the bus. The rabbit is still sitting there, in a slightly different place when I return, but by the time I get my camera he is gone, of to do his morning rabbit duties. (I say he because I imagine that a mother bunny is somewhere with her little baby bunnies, but I have no idea).

He sat there for a while contemplating the world, watching the morning, finding peace.

[caption id="attachment_6764" align="aligncenter" width="584"]The view the rabbit might have seen. The view the rabbit might have seen.[/caption]

For a moment I envy the bunny. While still at alert, he sat for for a long time, enjoying the moment, morning, the sunshine, the peace without worrying about the chaos to come. Or at least I imagine he had no worries. I wonder what rabbits really think about.

Tomorrow morning I think I'll aim to be the bunny.

How was your morning?