flotsam, photography, travel

First morning home

It’s quiet when I wake up. My eyes are still closed and my first thought is that it must be small hours, because there is no sound – no gurgle of coffee or the hushes of morning conversation. 

This wouldn’t be unusual: Most mornings I have awakened in small hours and put myself back to sleep, usually resulting in being among the last up and about. 

But even with my eyes closed I can tell it’s awfully bright for that. Where is everyone?

And then I realize it’s more quiet still: I don’t hear the murmur of the ocean. That confounds me momentarily. Where am I?

I open my eyes, to get my bearings. 

I’m home, of course. My bed, my room, my house. It’s early but not too early. 

And it is good to be home. 

But also, I miss having my family right here. Scenes from a morning: my father finishing the paper, my brother in law reading his news online, my sister doing a puzzle, my mom sipping at coffee, the slightly bedraggled but sweet and beautiful faces of my nieces first thing, before we all shake off sleep once and for all, and start the preparations for a morning on the beach. 

Storm approaching over North Myrtle Beach SC ⛈