This Is My Beautiful Life

I’ve made a moment and I want to hold onto it.

Photo via Unsplash

It’s my last morning in Denver. I slept in to the late hour of 7 o’clock. I’m back in my tiny space where I’m finally getting to a little work after leisurely reading for a while. Two cups of coffee in.

I’ve settled into a nice little ritual. For the last four mornings, I haven’t talked to another human being until at least 10am.

The only noise I’ve had all morning is the clinking of a downstairs neighbor’s breakfast plates, cars passing by on the street and piano music coming from my phone in the next room.

I’ve grown accustomed to the smell of the old building. Like someone’s grandmother if she smoked weed on a regular basis and burned incense while she did it.

The dog in the apartment across the courtyard never barks. Just sits on the back of the couch every morning, watching me do this.

I feel incredibly happy. Calm. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way, if ever.

My view from my little nook. Wide open windows. Ice cold beer.