This morning we made pancakes. It wasn't really morning, it was one of those days where the morning stretches into the afternoon. We slept in, cuddling and having long meaningful conversations with the cats while they purred. Then we sipped espresso and listened to the rain.
On our long morning run we came up with song lyrics to a uke tune that Carla wrote and I stopped to take pictures of leaves and birds.
Then we had pancakes. Buttermilk pancakes with real butter and lots of maple syrup.
And after breakfast we all gravitated toward the sofa and gradually sank down for a nap. Carla and I and both of the cats – our funny little family.
This is what it's all about. Floating on our very own little raft of happiness. In a sea of pancake fixins that need to be cleaned up. The bed unmade upstairs, wet laundry in the washer, just life, everywhere around us, our life. This is what I'm thankful for every day.
This has been a good morning.
Nothing is impossible to a willing heart.
More from living