Joy in the Morning

I sit as the dawn breaks, grateful that we could keep Louise home where she wanted to be until the end. It is peaceful here even though my heart is broken. I am surrounded, at this moment by her things, dolls, quilts, and photos. Hard to believe she is really gone because it all remains the way it has been for years. In this window seat, I can look out and see the beauty of the place she loved. I hear the birds singing, as if nothing has changed. Yet this morning she will not sit in the rocker on the porch with her coffee. She will not cook blueberry pancakes, or go for a walk up the mountain. I think that memories can be like a double- edged sword. They sweeten our days, and steal our nights. Still, I wouldn’t trade one of them. I have heard that weeping endures for the night, but that joy comes in the morning. I wonder which morning that will be.

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