A place to read in the morning light. A place to ground myself, to grow myself. I love the rising sun, how the day begins quietly, the entire world seemingly still asleep. Only me. Safe. My space. My time. My eternity. My peace.

The words flow from the page. I drink them. I thirst for knowledge, for the rising sun of new consciousness at the center of my heart and mind, for the awakening of a new understanding. One that uplifts and rebirths.

Then, a flood. July 2023. The reading ritual carried away by dirty, tiny waves. The books, not all of them, rescued in plastic totes as in a time capsule to be reopened someday. But When? In an eternity? That’s what uncertainty would have me believe, yet the raging mountainside river that washed my world away carried me uphill to an even brighter world.

October 2023. Early morning. I resume my long interrupted reading ritual. A new life chapter begins. I am blessed. February. Spring will be beautiful here.