Mornings

A spring or summer day, I can’t remember for sure. The sun hasn’t been up long, no curtains on the windows, morning light gently touching us with a hint of warmth. A slight breeze makes the warm sheets feel especially good against my skin, they smell fresh, clean, hopeful. As she lays beside me not yet awake, I look at her, the gentle flows of her body, so peaceful. Jealous she is still able to sleep, yet thankful I get to watch. These mornings I think about the future, about all the mornings we’ll awake like this. Those mornings, now just memories.