a day of solitude

It’s been a beloved day of solitude, the quiet of nature soothing my senses. Waking up cocooned in a mass of thick red corduroy, the feel of thin smooth black sheets gingerly touching my skin, I let the day begin unfolding at its own pace. No rush to get to school or work, no hurried shower or ringing of the phone. No TV blaring football, no radio hits of the 80’s urging me to get up and dance, just the silence of sleepiness and an inner peace I am just coming to know.

The sun has been shining since long before I awoke, its rays beaming down a gentle warmth uncommon to a September afternoon in Georgia. The breeze is faint, but visible as the emerald leaves wave ever so slightly from their perch upon the winding braches that snake across the skyline. I’ve spent the afternoon in the company of a good book and my thoughts, a quiet blissfulness growing steadily with the fading daylight.

It seems impossible to describe in words, these newfound feelings of contentment. There’s an element of excitement huddled in the background, but it’s a feeling of excitement different from what I’ve come to know over the years. There is no eager anticipation of some specified event, no hopes of thrills to come in the form of some particular adventure or experience. It’s just a calm, somewhat subdued, feeling of excitement in general. An excitement for each day, each moment, the newness and vibrancy I am unexpectedly finding in the world around me.

But it is not just the feel of lurking eagerness; it is a feeling of solace enveloping me in the quiet moments. It is an awareness of my existence as I breathe in the refreshing air encircling me. A comfort that leaves me feeling fulfilled and dare I say it….happy.