Early Saturday morning I sat on my couch, underneath an old quilt that I somehow stole/borrowed (?) from my mama’s house a zillion years ago. It is soft, with floral patches and rips along the seams. It reminds me the most about the last summer I lived home before my senior year  of college, how it welcomed me and reminded me of days gone past. The batting is coming out of it now, and it sits on the end of my couch, the perfect blanket to snuggle up in on raw and rainy spring days. I sit underneath it and sip my first steaming cup of coffee, while the sunlight streams in the window to my left. The children are downstairs watching TV and do not know I am up yet, so it is quiet and calm and it’s quite possibly my favorite part of the day. 

The birds are singing their songs through the open window and everything outside is bursting with new life. Everywhere I look I see that beautiful spring green that bursts from every tree and plant, it surprises me each year I see it because it so beautiful it takes me breath away. 

I sit beneath this old quilt, warming my hands around an old coffee mug that I don’t have the heart to toss out. It as chips and dings, and a faint lipstick stain that has never washed out.