The Sweetness of a Slow Morning

This morning was a gift.

We slept in—no rushing. Just the sun peeking through the curtains and the warm little body of my toddler curled up beside me. We snuggled extra. I drank coffee slowly. We made breakfast slowly. We sat together and actually tasted the food instead of shoveling it in between tasks or distractions.

After breakfast, we took a long walk—me, Lowen, and our pup Murph. No real destination, just the rhythm of our footsteps and the sound of her sweet voice asking for snacks, pointing out dogs, and watching the ducks in the canal. When we got home, we started laundry, watered the garden, drew chalk hearts all over the patio, and chased bubbles in the yard.

Lately, life has been full—gym mornings, physical therapy appointments, music class. All beautiful things, but still… full. This morning we had nowhere to be. No schedule to follow. It was just us. And it was exactly what we both needed.

Slow mornings are healing. They remind me that presence is so powerful. That the best parts of life are quiet, unscheduled, and full of simple joy. They fill me up in a way that no productivity ever could.

I’m so thankful I get to spend my days with our girl. She’s the coolest person I’ve ever met. Watching the world through her eyes slows me down in all the best ways. 

This morning was nothing special, and somehow—it was everything.