Before Tahajjud

I coaxed myself awake with kisses to my arm this morning.

The way you wake a child

who has fallen asleep in the back seat of the car.

Gently.

As if someone were wrapped around me.

Lips brushing my arm,

making sure I know just how much I am wanted.

Warm kisses on cool skin.

Welcoming myself back into the world.

Deliberately.

Lips to the soft folds near my wrist.

My palms. My fingers.

Before the sun.

After a season of quiet,

I come back to myself.

Lips first.

Then words.

And slowly

I remember:

I am a writer.

See you next week. 🥂