As I pad through the den, bare feet gliding across the hard wood floor, I cradle my steaming mug of coffee in my hand and take a deep breath. The crisp morning air creeps through the small log cabin, leaving a trail of goosebumps down my arms. I make my way to the window seat tucked away in a nook, surrounded by a large bay window. The window, overlooking the edge of a tree-lined pond, is the eye into my world.
My world.
The world that I sought after for so long. The world that I dreamed of late at night as I sat alone in my office, waiting for the sun to come up. The world that greets me every morning when I wake, tucks me in at night, and keeps me company during the day with whispering breezes and a natural orchestra that soothes and relaxes.
I drop into the cushioned window seat and pull back the curtains, taking in the view outside the glass panes. The grass outside is wet with dew. The trees green and lush. Wildlife abounds in my little oasis. Squirrels skitter across fallen leaves. Birds fly happily back and forth, busily building their nests. Deer run through the trees. Ducks swim lazily to and fro across the surface of the still pond, not a care in the world. The day is coming alive before my eyes, and I smile.
It won’t be long before the trees begin to turn brown and shed their summer coats. The animals that now play and frolic will become scarce, hiding and hibernating. The snow will fall and the view outside the window will become dreary. But for today, it is a thing of wonder and beauty.
I sit for a while, taking it all in, enjoying, refusing to move. I watch until my legs tire of sitting and my coffee grows cold, and then I rise, letting the curtain drop back into place. My day is not over, but I must step away from the window and let my world pass by without me, if only for a little while. Although I’d love to just sit and enjoy the view all day, there are too many other things that must be done. The deer will have to run, the ducks will have to swim, and the birds will have to fly without me for a bit. At least, until tonight when I once again return to the window, pull back the curtain, and watch the setting sun fall, gently kissing the tops of the trees, tucking the animals away for the night.
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