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It's a beautiful and gray Sunday morning here at home. Just now eight am. My wife is still sleeping, a soft smile on her face. This is my favorite day of the week, and my favorite time of that day. I have a hot cup of coffee beside me on the desk. It's very quiet here, almost no traffic on my usually-busy street. This is when I listen to the world waking up around me.

Two gray squirrels are chasing each other around a giant pine, round and round. Are they mates, or rivals? I wonder. A big black crow, fat as a bowling ball, yells at the world tirelessly. What is he saying? I wonder. Snow-crust rests on all the bare branches of the sleeping maples in the courtyard. Pretty as a starving-artist's studied oil landscape, and not a penny paid by me to enjoy it all.

I'm listening to Bob Kingsley's Top 40 Country Countdown. It's just begun, so I'll hear songs by artists new and old that are just entering the charts. Most will be new to my ear, which is fine relief to the constant repetition of the top 20 every other day. I can hear the second-hand advancing on my Big Ben clock by the desk as Sunday takes its time moving along toward manic Monday. So early now, it feels like I have endless hours to relax and write and read.

Soon enough, my kids will awaken and Sponge Bob will invade my solitude. The oldest will finish the "good" cereal, and the youngest will complain bitterly. The sound of church-bound families driving up the hill out front will disperse the still air outside. My wife will run the shower in the bath just a few feet down the hall. I'll have to make more coffee, and think about scrambling some eggs or dipping French toast for breakfast.

For now the minutes stretch longer than they will in an hour. I find an interesting article to read, and think about chores I'll tackle later today. Pen in hand, I make a few notes on the scratch-pad: things to do, and places to visit. Not just yet, though. I still have some time to savor my peaceful world, here at my desk. Outside the big crow lifts off from a fat branch and heads to the neighbor's yard. No sign of the gray squirrels, but they'll be back. Nothing sits still for long, including me.

I've had my hour of peace and solitude. It's after nine am now, and time get the day rolling. I take one last long stretch in my comfy desk chair, then push up from my seat and head for the kitchen. Sunday morning at home was just perfect, while it lasted.

Learn more about this author, Jim Bessey.
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