We slept in the basement at our place in Boston. A basement makes for good sleeping. Dark, cool, quiet. Tucked beneath the street and under the hum of the world. But a basement doesn’t make for good waking. Most mornings I’d lumber out of bed, never fully prepared to begin the day.
We’re sleeping on the top floor of the house where we’re living in Portland this summer. Three of the four walls are lined with windows. There are no blinds and the morning light seeps through the curtains. Like coffee flowing through the filter, slow and easy. The sun wakes me up, I open my book to read a handful of pages, and then I meet the sun outside on my run.
I hope these Portland mornings stay with me after we leave. When we’re back in the basement and where ever we end up waking up after that. Mornings are meant to be gentle and welcomed.