she crawled out of bed and put on a sweater. she sleepily stumbled down the stairs and to the kitchen. she was always on the lookout for stories - even while watching tv with her brothers. she would look for secrets hidden for in the characters eyes.
she started boiling some water and took out a pot for oatmeal. if there was one thing she took everywhere with her, it was her iPod. music was her constant, the thing that gave her joy. so the music accompanied her in sort of a morning dance - stir oatmeal, sip tea, take out frozen blueberries, spin around and repeat.
she sat down at the table and took a bite of her breakfast. blueberries burst juicily in her mouth and she could taste the brown sugar. her fingers moved as if the table was a piano. (because that's what she did; piano was her passion so she played it wherever she went.)
she took one last glimpse at the glowing january morning and smiled. because sometimes, the winter sunrises and sunsets were the only things that kept her smiling during these dark and lonely days of winter.
fridays are good for rambly, prose-y stories and pictures from my iPod of the sky lately.