Quietly

Good morning.

The rest of the house is still asleep. I quietly crept to the kitchen to pour some coffee and then snuck back under the covers. This is my heaven.

I love the quiet, the time to contemplate while sipping from a warm mug. A book is on my lap waiting to be read, but I sit here thinking for a few minutes as the morning creeps in. I’m not sure if I like the early morning or the late night solitude best. Each holds its own bit of special.

For the month of May, I read six books. My favorite was Mary and O’Neil by Justin Cronin. I stumbled across this book at the library. I had only heard of Cronin in reference to his dystopian trilogy (which I want to read), beginning with The Passage. MAO is a contemporary domestic drama that follows a family over a lifetime. It’s tragic and beautiful, as family always is. Cronin has an ear and eye for capturing nuances that feel nothing short of authentic. I found that he has another similar genre-d (I think I just made up that word) book titled, The Summer Guest, which I am on hold for. If The Passage trilogy, albeit different, reads to the caliber of MAO then Cronin will have mastered two incredible genres (in my humble opinion).

This first day of June continues to softly crawl in. The light from behind the curtains is a little brighter now and my cat is yawning and stretching the night from her legs. The rest of the crew can’t be far behind her. So I’ve spent this morning writing this post, rather than reading and that’s ok. When I began this blog (which existed in my head for months before I actually started it), I wondered if it would be something I really wanted to do. Even though it’s just been a few weeks, I find myself looking forward to writing. So just maybe, I’m beginning to build a wonderful new habit?

I love the smell of book ink in the morning.

Umberto Eco
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