Life as I know it

This morning, as is my usual custom, I awoke before the Sun. I stood at the large window in my kitchen, coffee in hand, and wandered up the mountain of Pine Trees that loom majestically in the near distance.

In my world, it is not so out of character to travel outside the lines. For me, it is rather serendipitous in nature in that my days always begin without a planned destination. But I digress: back to this morning.

The mist, hovering just above the tree line, appeared like a Sleeper waiting for the morning light that was just barely visible giving the impression of a night-light-stream from under a door. There is a beauty in the simplicity and certitude of this.

As the Sun began its ascent everything blended together in a cacophony of sounds, people, and smells: although I couldn’t see it, a Harley Davidson (sound distinctive) cruised along the main road of town through the dimness of Dawn; a flock of Seagulls flapped in unison as they skimmed across the horizon; a frog croaked in my yard, probably from somewhere underneath the Ivy that gropes upward along its perimeter; the chef from Don’s Diner leaned up against the building commingling his cigarette smoke with the lifting fog; and, permeating the air, the aromatic bouquet of bacon and coffee.

As the Sun sizzled it’s way above the mountain, it seemed a bit disingenuous to not be happy. After all, where there is no demand there is no supply. And this Postcard, this Fairy tale I call home, simply demands it.