Before responsibilities–land, a farm, loan payments–before motherhood, how could I have known the luxury of a morning alone.  How could I have known the beauty of sitting at a counter with a window seat, a cup of coffee heavy with cream exhaling steam upward on a cold morning.  How could I have known the stillness a slice of coffee cake could offer, its moist crumb coalescing with crystals of brown sugar in my mouth.

Before motherhood, how could I have known the contentment that comes when time floats out of mind, thoughts dissipate in the steam, and I nurse that cup of coffee–or should I say when that coffee nurses me?  This moment of taking instead of giving–how could I have known how marvelous it would feel?