My Sunday morning?

I awake to the sounds of her clicking away on the computer. It sounds like mice rummaging through a box of Legos, making a stage and tap dancing. She is prepping for two magazine interviews she’s about to conduct/write at 11am. She’s is sitting at the desktop computer across the room, which is stationed in front of one of the three large windows in our bedroom that overlook Maryland Ave in NE DC. There is no sunlight but she illuminates brilliantly, despite the morning gloom. She’s in her pjs…hair scruffy, glasses on, coffee to her left, cell phone to her right. She’s wearing headphones, one minute Joss Stone, the next Chaka Khan, followed by Erykah Badu. She usually awakes before I do and this is how I typically find her.

There have been moments when I have asked myself,
Am I ready to give up being single?
Is my selfish self ready to be ‘we’, ‘us’ and ‘our’?

I wake up…I see her…my writing love…and my answer is a resounding yes.
Yes.
My Sunday mornings are lovely.
I get Sunday morning every day…thankfully.

*cueing Etta James*