bellefonte mornings

I actually already have a “blog” on my own website. It’s nothing stimulating. Just my life these past few months.

Why are Mondays so grueling? I don’t even have class, but I still can’t seem to unlazy myself. I couldn’t even open my eyes this morning. They were, quite literally, stuck together. At least, they burned when I tried to open them. I would have accepted that, except Stacy insisted upon jumping on the bed, singing good morning songs. Good morning, my ass. I am getting up hours earlier than I need to. Why? For him. So he can get to work on time. I am declaring myself sainthood. I am the best and most tolerable girlfriend in the world.

Actually, I enjoy getting up early. There is something about the dim light that melts through the shades, determined to cast sunlight on the objects in the bedroom. And lately I’ve been nostalgic for England, because the weather here has been so mild, it reminds me of waking up in Ramsbury. Or sipping coffee on the London sidewalk, listening to shops opening and watching the sun peak over the tall office buildings.

So I drink my coffee with my eyes tightly shut imagining it… where did those six months go? And I open my eyes and a feeling of sadness takes over. I am not in London. Or the English countryside. But then the feeling passes when my eyes focus on the morning sunlight casting shadows on the hills above this little town. I can’t help but be in love – with it all. Stacy, this house, this little town, and this view. And I know it is such a cliche question to ask, but given my history and the mistakes I’ve made, I can’t help but ask myself – how did I get this lucky?

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About Gina Marie Thompson

writer • mom • trail runner • cheese slinger • educator • social justice crusader • seeker of love & beauty• living locally • I CHOOSE LOVE ❤️
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