So there's this spot in my house which happens to perfectly align with the rising sun filtering through my sliding glass door. It's the kind of spot which makes me want to wake up with the sun to stand in it with my slept in ponytail still atop my head.
It's the kind of spot which beckons me to sit and feel the warmth of the early sun on my toes.
It's the kind of spot which makes me whip out the mug I've had since the seventh grade and drink my coffee slow and easy; without any noise besides my own thoughts.
It's the kind of spot which allows for the noticing of each slow step the sun makes on its way up in the sky as it creeps up from the toes.
It's the kind of spot which makes me hope everyone has a Kim Anderson mug from the nineties and a sun matching place to sip from that reminder of the past.
So there's this spot in my house. It's a spot which makes starting the day a rejuvenating, more than enjoyable experience. The only problem with the spot? Leaving it.
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