Is there anything more utterly luxurious, and lavishly glorious than getting back into bed? I mean, at the end of a long day it feels really delightful to fold back the sheets and climb into a cushiony embrace. But I’m talking about waking up in the morning, not to an alarm might I add, with nowhere to go, nowhere to be. That flickering realization that the morning is clear of responsibility and is truly and utterly yours. The freedom to get up, make some coffee, grab a book, light some candles, and crawl back into that bed in the quiet stillness of a morning free from routine and rush.
I am a librocubicularist (n): one who enjoys reading in bed. *Yes this is a real thing, pinterest tells me so.
Today is memorial day and the only reason I am able to reflect on such luxury is because others have ensured my freedom. I have done nothing to earn it; I was born into a country already free, with skin that allows me to benefit fully from the advantages of our system. Aside from my status as a woman, I have been afforded every convenience and privilege there is. Including, the ability on a lazy morning, a day off from work and responsibility, to crawl back into bed with a good book.
I’m not a horribly patriotic person. Most of the time, especially in today’s climate, I’m embarrassed to call this country home for the way in which we participate in the world order, using violence, manipulation, and fear to make sure that we come first and keep our perch. But, today is not about patriotism – today is about saying thank you.
So as I put away my laptop and reach for my kindle and the literary pleasure that awaits me this morning, with a cup of Valhalla coffee in hand, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for this gift I have been given.
Photo Credit: Pinterest