My mornings are usually slow and meaningful.
Today I rise and prepare for a typical first-of-the-morning stint in the kitchen.
Mornings are often spent in my night clothes, without a robe to cover up. It's comfortable and sometimes I do my best thinking and writing during these casual mornings. And yes, on occasion, I have been caught by a delivery person, early afternoon, still in night gear. I do throw on a coat before opening the door to receive my parcel.
This day, my husband and son are already gone but I hear Gabi, our border, still present. She has seen me in nightclothes before so I'm not concerned. A nudge from somewhere suggests I put on a cover up robe. It's winter and cold, so I put on a heavy, warm terry robe before leaving the bedroom.
En route down stairs to the main floor I notice Gabi sitting by the front window waiting for her ride. And, I hear a noise in the kitchen. Has my son not gone to work? Then I see a stranger emerge. He is young and handsome (even without my glasses).
I discover he is waiting for a ride too, a friend of Gabi's, sheltering from the very cold temperatures outside.
How grateful I am for that still small voice prompting me to 'wear a robe'. I am also grateful I chose to obey.