Good Morning, Leah
It's winter in Minnesota, which means the mornings are cold and dark. Every morning the dogs wake when the heat turns on, Beatrix wakes early and puts on her clothes and crawls back under the covers for awhile, and and we stumble around to quickly get out of the house with everything seeming too dark and early.
And every morning I think of Leah.
Leah had a judgey streak and once when I complained about the dark winter mornings, she laughed at me for Beatrix's late school start time and said her girls were at the bus stop at some god-awful time (I think 6:30?) for their 7:30 start time. And then, for a few weeks, she sent me morning bus stop pictures.
And then once she laughed at admitted that maybe she was just jealous and missed the days of sleeping in.
Beatrix's school starts earlier now and so those dark mornings seem all the more sleep-deprived (or maybe it's that I am older and sleep less). And they make me miss that dialogue with Leah all the more.
And every morning I think of Leah.
Leah had a judgey streak and once when I complained about the dark winter mornings, she laughed at me for Beatrix's late school start time and said her girls were at the bus stop at some god-awful time (I think 6:30?) for their 7:30 start time. And then, for a few weeks, she sent me morning bus stop pictures.
And then once she laughed at admitted that maybe she was just jealous and missed the days of sleeping in.
Beatrix's school starts earlier now and so those dark mornings seem all the more sleep-deprived (or maybe it's that I am older and sleep less). And they make me miss that dialogue with Leah all the more.
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