Sunday Morning Window
I like to sit in the living room every morning while eating breakfast and looking east out the window. Weekday mornings this time of year I don't see much. It's still dark. But on weekends, when I can stay in bed and eat breakfast later, I see more.
Breakfast is almost always a bowl of cereal. The cereal is almost always high-fiber – I'm so middle-age. Cracklin' Oat Bran, Raisin Bran, anything bran. And unsweetened vanilla almond milk. I actually like the taste better than cow's milk but my wife can't stand it.
My cat, Oreo, jumps up on the sectional sofa next to me and lays on or next to my lap. She always hopes I have the kind of milk she likes and that I'll share.
Depending where I sit on the sofa I see different houses. But I'm usually more interested in the trees and mountains behind them.
The houses are boring. We're in a modest neighborhood of homes with vinyl siding and half-brick facades in front, built in the 1990s. They all look similar and are not extravagant or very large, but nice. Yet so...artificial. Our 1,600 square foot house is the smallest on our street – probably the smallest single family home in our neighborhood, as I haven't seen another like it. We wanted it that way. Our family is small, and we don't need anything larger. I'm very thankful to have a place to live and to be in a nice, safe neighborhood in a good location. But the way we build things here just seems out of place.
Today the trees are way past Autumn peak colors. But most of them still have leaves. Muted dark orange and brown now, but still a bit of yellow. I should have raked the yard yesterday when it was unseasonably warm, but I read somewhere that leaving the leaves can actually be good for your lawn and for the environment as long as they aren't completely covering it. Yeah, that sounds like a good excuse.
And then there are the mountains. So majestic. So dependable. So unmovable.
This morning is cloudy. Sunshine illuminates the edges of breaks in the canopy accented by light blue sky.
The mountains quietly observe the march of human “progress” here. The sprawl of strip malls and parking lots and schools and churches and subdivisions full of houses and town homes and apartments in the valley below them. To them, a couple hundred years is the blink of an eye.
The mountains were here first. They'll be here long after we're gone.
The clouds are clearing a bit. Occasional rays of sunshine stream through the window. I feel the warmth on my skin. I can see our windows are dirty and need a good cleaning.
I should take a shower and get ready for church. But I'll wait a bit longer and enjoy my Sunday morning window.
#100DaysToOffload (No. 105) #gratitude #life #Utah