. . . . . six o’clock, in the a.m.  i wake from my deep relaxing slumber. the dawns light slowly meets the twilight sky of the  evening and grows brighter, i wipe my eyes. the rooms cool feel surrounds, as i unwrap myself from the comfort warmth of the flannel sheets. i rest my feet upon the carpet, still reluctant to remove myself  from the comfort of sleep.  the fibers of the carpet surround my toes. i give myself a long stretch, arms above my head, torso stretched. i walk myself on over to the kitchen, where the comfort of the carpet turns to a cooler touch of wooden floor. i turn to the coffee maker, and glance out the window. eyes adjusting, seeing the overcast sky through a light frosted window pane. and the longing for summer formed in my head, and i chuckled. outside the window, the maple tree leaves rustle, as the morning breeze quickly blows through. thankful that i am inside,  i grab a mug off of the hook, and set it in the holder, and the coffee starts brewing for my cup. saturday morning, seven a.m. starting the day. //  i let you sleep in for a while. i head for the shower.  pulling  back the brown and mint curtain and pulling  the knob out and over to the hottest position. as i wait for the hot water to commence, i brush my teeth, shave my face and count the grey hairs that snuck in the night prior. after i started to lose count, a heavy steam starts rolling through, covering the mirror, and  i head to the shower. after all is done, i dry myself off with the soft cotton, matching  mint,  towel and dress myself  for a cool autumn day. // i open the side door to the garage, and flip the switch. the fluorescent flickers, buzzes and turns on. tripping over all the left over summer garage sale junk, that is piled up in stalemate, i stumble over to my local hardware store’s , fall special rake. i grab it from off the wall’s hook,  and lift open the heavy garage door panel. i walk out on the driveway and look over the yard. i pick out my starting point which is  the lower left portion of the property. it’s where the mighty oak lives. fifty years, to be exact. and it’s where the most leaves had fallen. start with the hardest and end with the easiest. there are other trees in the yard, but none that added up to this elder of trees. the cool autumn breeze had turned cooler, and i pull the jacket together to zip it up. i continue. as i am half way through the front yard’s  project, i notice that you are  up and awake. standing there on the front porch, in your p.j.’s covered by a thick cotton robe,  waiting for me to notice you. i look up, and see you sip on your coffee. and behind your cup, you give me a distant good morning smile. motioning  me to come join you, you hand me a newly brewed cup of coffee. the cool air draws massive steam to the java.  kiss you good morning, hug me love. i take another sip and head back to the project at hand. you head back in quickly, because you hate the cold, but love it from the comfort of the warm window inside. i smirk, and rake till i’m done. leaves headed to their new home, in the compost pile, where they will contribute to the springs renewal. i look around and take note of all the other pre-winter chores i have to get done. i write them down, tuck the list in my back pocket and save them for another day.// lunchtime. i head in, and see that you are already ten steps ahead of me, and have it ready for me. i freshen up with some water to the face and up to the elbows, i clean up.  i look in the mirror, still bothered by the grey hair count. you laugh, and tell me that you like it, and that it makes me  look distinguished.  a quiet sigh and an unseen roll of the eye, we both laugh. we both eat and relax on the couch and make plans for the rest of the day, grocery store, movie madness afternoon. lazy saturday afternoon. never leaving the house, never leaving the comfort of each other’s arms, under the afghan blanket.  and within the first fifteen minutes of the first movie, one autumn saturday we shared, we fell asleep . . . . . .

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