Surface Light

 5:03am. The house is asleep.  I'm up with the dogs, letting them out into the dark, snow covered backyard.  The air is so cold it takes my breath away as I open the door to release them.  Shutting it feels instantly warmer.  I approach the kitchen cupboard slowly, still waking up, and choose a mug for my morning coffee.  I warm the water in the microwave, turning on the surface light over the oven so I can see what I'm doing.  The microwave beeps and I drop in a teaspoon of instant coffee grounds and 3 tablespoons of vanilla creamer, stirring until it is a creamy taupe color.  I take to the couch with my book and my mug of coffee, knowing that within the next hour everyone will be awake needing things from me and my day will truly start.  In the meantime, these stolen moments are filling my daily cup.

...

8:41pm. The house is asleep.  I'm downstairs switching the laundry, locking the doors and taking my meds.  As I place each pill on a spoonful of appleasuce (swallowing pills is not my favorite and this childish trick helps), I am exhausted from a long day of teaching.  It's the best kind of tired that comes from a busy, productive day full of meeting the needs of those around me. The lights are mostly off in the house.  The Christmas tree still glows in the living room, but the kitchen and dining room lights are off, so I have switched on the surface light above the stove to see what I'm doing. As soon as the dogs are let out and back in, and locked safely in their crates, I click the light off, giving the downstairs a final once over before trekking upstairs to put myself to bed.  It beckons me.  The morning will come quickly, it always does, so I am going to rest while I can.