There’s something about mornings that just feel so deliciously alive.
Apparently I’m not the only one that feels this way, judging from the sweet cacophony of chirps in the air. A gentle, breezy wind waltzes through the skinny pines in our backyard, tickling the dandelions we’ll collect later for tea.
Mama smiles at me. “Breathe.”
She closes her eyes as our knees soften and our arms float up and down, beginning a new series of tai chi. Our breaths slow and synchronize to the flow of energy within.
As we float through the movements, I am hyperaware of how lovely my home is. Dew glints and glitters like Christmas, courtesy of Mother Nature’s décor. I can smell the wet earth as I become a snake creeping through the grass1, and electricity courses through my arms as I circulate my cloudy hands1. I reach deep, deep down to fetch the needle at the bottom of the sea1 and my body relaxes: softly, smoothly.
The sun creeps a little higher in the sky, and the shade of dawn melts away.
I admire how beautiful mama is as she moves with her comfortable grace. I hope to be like her one day, as kind, as generous, as forgiving as a mother should be.
I think about how far away I will be soon and etch this moment into my memory.