A honey bee wards off a much larger carpenter bee. A California scrub jay sips water from a saucer. That crazy mockingbird calls and leaps, the ultimate entertainer. I stretch. My wayward hand elicits sweet notes from the windchimes.
Each day, rising almost with the sun, I beg myself to say nestled in sleep. But morning waits. Zzxyx is already napping. Nearly 20 years have passed since she was that tiny ball of black fur. I nuzzle her head, scratch under her chin and disturb her morning nap. All part of this blessed interlude.
Morning is fleeting. I will find her again tomorrow.
December 30, 2018