I love the way a rainy morning feels. Big warm back pressed to my back, down comforter and heavy afghan blanket nested close and warm, rise and fall like the sea breathing and the sound of water droplets hitting the window. Salty skin, gentle rumples of cloth and hair and soft mumbles and burbles collide with the low soft cat purr, felt more than heard.

The clouds were dark as dusk well into the morning, a heavy grey and indigo quilt draped heavy on the world. I started to think of all the things I needed to do, curled sleepily and warm against his back, in between the alarm and the rising in that delicious drift of "snooze," all the necessary worrisome things. And maybe it was the soft stirring of the dogs waking in the other room, possibly it was the creep of consciousness, it may have been a drowsy snuffle from my love undercovers beside me, maybe it was some undaunted bird outside singing in the rain, but suddenly, without warning, the world stopped. It all stopped.

I thought to myself the present tense is all I need. Forget the past, do not anticipate the future, the importance of now is unequaled.