No wonder I wake up feeling so refreshed. The sky outside my window is a soft, moody gray. Rain falls in gentle sheets. The hum of the city wraps me in a velvet calm.
I turn on soft R&B jazz—honey smooth, slow, & thoughtful. It floats through my home; though the thunder roars louder, like it’s telling its own story.
I tiptoe to my daughter’s room, & sneak a kiss on her warm, golden-brown cheeks—still plush & sweet like the day she was born. Her deep brown eyes flutter open, & she says, “Good morning, Mommy.” The most perfect melody I could ever hear.
I ask spirit to cover me. To surround my little love in light as we drive through the dreamy, rain-soaked streets, to her school. Everything feels aligned—like the heavens are opening a portal for my prayers to pour through.
My radio stays tuned to 99.9—the number of finality. Angelic whispers echo through static. I feel like I’m in the middle of the now and the next. I’m walking in purpose. Writing a childhood my baby girl will never forget. This magic, these small everyday rituals—they’re shaping her world.
It’s bittersweet. I crave more for her. But her smile, pure & bright, tells me I’m enough. Wanting more only means it’s already on the way.
The thunderstorm reminds me how far I’ve come. I’m protected. I’m free. I kiss my daughter before she runs inside the building to learn. I watch how excited she is to seize another day, before I pull off into the mist.
I’m deeply, endlessly blessed. And I honor the now—before the rain washes it away.
