The clock says 7:14 AM as my eyes snap open. The hair on my arms starts to bristle as I leave the warm sheets and the cool air hits my skin. I pull on a pair of faded, well worn blue jeans. The hem feels soft against the tops of my bare feet. Roxy yawns and stretches before lumbering off the bed and towards the back door.
I turn the handle and Roxy and I are through into the cool, morning stillness. Shafts of sunlight filter down through the pine trees and play in the early morning fog. Roxy’s nails click on the deck as she makes her way to her lead. I hook her up and she jumps off the deck. I stand and watch her go about her morning routine while listening to the chickens cluck to one another.
The air feels good across my bare chest as I breathe deeply. I take the time to take it all in. The way the wood of the deck feels rough and warm on my feet, the hum of the bee that floats by, the way the sunlight sparkles like millions of tiny diamonds in the morning dew on the blades of the greenest grass.
Roxy snorts and I watch her. I think to myself how she has had a good long twelve years and she still takes joy in the things she has always done. She still chases robins when they get too close to her and barks at the neighbors dogs when they come too close to her yard.
My mind wanders to the two sleeping girls in the house and the day beginning. The smell of fresh coffee wafts out the window.
Life is good.
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