I’m in love with colorful morning sunrises. Isn’t it just perfection the way a sunrise colors the land? The dark giving way to a deepening, drenched and delightful crayola horizon. Set on go, the peach and firey fuchsia showing up together, never disappoint.
Burning and stretching its way across the east. A front row magical sense of morning, this sacred theatre. Shades morphing as the minutes chase across the stage. My morning schedule halted and once again, I am rescued by unexpected beauty.
Glowing, dancing aliveness showers surfaces on purpose, with purpose. My home vibrating and the inanimate coming to life. Colors bursting from darkness, quenching my whiney morning soul.
I take it in. I hold it close. Essence captured in small sips to save and use tomorrow should the clouds roll. A timeless trademark of magics’ promise. Filling my body with hope and beauty I stare into its sky eyes. Glowing, growing, gone! I’m in love with colorful sunrises.
I’m in love with black crows. Oil slicked, feathery friends. Squeaking and squawking, fussing and snibbling. Full of warnings and messages never wasted on me. Arriving for shenanigans, socializing or eating, entertainment abounds. 
I miss creating a paper chain – one link for each December day with a fun activity written on each one. I miss nightly foot massages with mint foot creme. I miss getting tricked in the back yard, “Mom, there’s a coyote behind you”. I miss going to the pet store to visit with a dog even though we never brought one home. I miss writing with chalk on the driveway and tracing our bodies. I miss going for a walk in the woods after a snowstorm to see how deep the snow was. Lying in the snow and looking at the blue Winter sky. Snow angels and forts. Coloring the snow with spray bottles of water and food coloring. I miss homemade birthday parties in the yard. Pinatas, tractor rides with b-day friends all peering through binoculars on a pretend safari ride through the backyard woods spying for parrots in the trees. I miss scoring (1-10) the jumps, dives and cannonballs into the pool, over and over. I miss hosting “Mom’s kitchen” – a fictitious restaurant that breaks out in the kitchen. I play hostess, waitress and line cook in a matter of minutes, listing every possible food item in the fridge -appetizer, entrée, sides, dessert, drink, etc. and take their orders on my “order pad”. (a great way to get rid of straggler food in your fridge and make your kids feel special at the same time, win, win)
People come into our lives. They may be forgettable. 
I observed a 3 year old girl yesterday, being 3. At the beach with her grandparents. It was time to leave and her older sister noticed the beach showers. 
Sometimes your gifts and talents are barely visible, just under the surface. Often concealed by pretty weighty assaults you’ve collected on your path. Attacks on your self-worth. Attacks on your personal power. Attacks on your right to simply live and BE. Absorbing comments from others… “It’ll never work”, “You can’t make a living doing THAT”, “Don’t brag, no-one likes a show off”, “Better stick to your day job”, “What do you think you’re special or something?”
For The Love of Gratitude 11/28
6. What a great age… the wide eyed expression when they talk about the tooth fairy, their dog, their birthday on Saturday, elves and a special rock. All with magic and wonder for ordinary things. Everything is possible and everyday is an adventure. Today, I’m 6. Excuse me while I go and play with my inner 6 year old -this glorious Friday.
A Fish Named Karen 