December 14,  2003 (from the vanilla journal)

      i wasn't able to sleep in today. i wish that i could have - now that i commute back and forth to work and depend on someone else's time schedule due to carpooling, the opportunity to sleep in only comes on weekends. Yet, when i spend the night waking up to cats roaming around (or wrestling for space on my bed) and then wake up at 7 a.m., my brain rouses and my body soon follows. 

     It's not all bad. This morning, while waiting for the kettle to boil for tea, i sat in front of the living room window and gazed out upon our street. A neighbour had left their holiday lights on all night, and in the greyness of early morning they shone like tiny beacons of welcoming. And it snowed last night - in fact it is still snowing as i write this - i can see the fluffiest of flakes swirl about in a small wind.  

     This morning everything looked calm and peaceful, to my eye. No car had driven down our narrow street yet; nothing disturbed the long white path that it had become. Here and there i could see the soft glow of lights shining behind curtained windows. But most of the houses were dark and i knew that whole families still slept. 

     i looked around my living room then. my eyes lit upon some of the reminders of the friends who live far away now - and i noticed especially the long narrow dining table that used to belong to them, that now hears our laughter and sees our tears.  i felt sad that they are not here. 

     i looked at the paintings that we have placed too high on the green walls that Himself never wanted, but He tolerates the green because it was me who wanted it. And i felt content in my small home. i made the tea.

     Today i felt the warmth of a winter dawn.