An early morning run to watch the sun rise.
A second morning run when not-so-little-anymore feet request.
Coffee, shared with a one year old I can’t stop calling baby—who only sniffs, never sips.

The feeling.
The feeling of contentment even when some things aren’t just right. 
The feeling that peace can be a state of mind even in the midst of chaos.

Reading a mystery on an island made of blue couch cushions with a swirling sea surrounding. The waves of commocean (yes I meant to spell it like that) caused by stomping feet and noisy toys.

It isn’t perfect, and if I’m not careful I miss the beauty in what is a sublime day dressed in all that is normal and calling itself Tuesday.