Monday, September 22, 5:30am

5:30am. I love this time of morning.  Charcoal painted sky with tints of lavender; light blue popping through the height of the sky, and for today especially, white pillowy clouds crafting a space to cheer in the brightness of the baby blue morning.
What peace my heart feels. I reach out the window and touch the branch dancing in front of me—I pull her towards my face and let her delicate leaves brush softly against my skin. She smells of the brightest morning—a special gift, no doubt, from my favorite Artist, my favorite Creator. The street lamps still lit, stand tall offering their condolences to the nostalgia I slept with so many nights, but today I seek no comfort for the dreams that haunted me. Today, I reach past the window and feel the future of my life: fresh, green and tangible in each hand.
Each car that passes, no longer bears a memory—now, each car holds a new idea, a startling endeavor, an adventure unfolding.

As the day brightens, my red couch straightens into a prideful stance, as if to say: the world is yours my child, the whole sky is yours, each word you’ve dreamed of holding in your hands, awaits your possession. 
Reach out little artist— it’s time to play. 
It’s time we create.

And before the sun is fully risen, my book is open, and my pen is pushed against her page, and the whole world is mine to create.