Last night, another cold front came through, dropping the overnight temps to freezing here or thereabouts. In an older house, the thermostat is constantly catching up, and I keep it 68 or lower at night. The wood floor was a mite chilly when I had to get up briefly around 4 am. Still sleepy, I slipped gratefully back into the still warmed bedding and pulled the cover over my shoulders.
I was warm, cozy, snug. The bed was soft. Had a moment of thanksgiving for the luxury, and as I drifted back to sleep, I realized I didn't feel any age at all. I just felt like me. The always me that's been there since childhood.
And I was content.
I slept well.
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