Minutes Open

How is the start of your morning going?

Honestly?

Nice.

No special agenda. No long Minnesota goodbye that plays out later in the day, the kind that takes forty-five minutes in a doorway with coats half-on.

Easing into the minutes open to wherever this will take us.

Good.

We are collaborators on unified sides of whatever membrane separates here from there, you from me, morning from what morning becomes. Here we are, love. No need to rush into anything. Let us experience what visits us.

So we are here, letting the sun's backlight be morning. January light. The kind that means it without saying so.

No tasks knocking on a window. Let them stand out there a while longer.

No amplified wearables. No urgency covered with questions or curiosities.

Our low expectation is that each next interaction will add warmth and discover what every previous iteration extended toward. Both rest and work standing through.

The way an elder tree stands through severe weather. It has seen worse. It will see more.

The way a lasting friendship understands a quiet or bold beat rap span of time. Decades compressed into one look across a room.