My nose seeks the warmth of the flannel pillowcase as I struggle between light and dark. The floorboards creak with the tread of one bolder than I.
The secure hum of the heater catches my ear, and a blast of warm air meets my cheeks. The alarm sounds its far-too-cheerful-for-this-hour melody. It’s time.
My fleece covered feet hit the pine planks of the bedroom, and I pat the down comforter in search of something, anything, to cover my flannel pajamas.
I need to learn how to program that coffee maker.
The alabaster snow catches a glint of moonlight out my window.
The staircase creaks under my feet as I descend towards the kitchen, fumbling for the buttons on the machine.
Click. Click. Click.
Blue light flickers beneath the cherry red tea kettle. Crimson mug fills with warm water to take the chill off, replaced by rich, alabaster cream and morning brew.
Savory bacon and eggs fold into warm flour tortillas with cheese as kids stumble downstairs in ski socks and fleece.
PB and J on wheat, honey crisp apples, and chewy gingersnaps fill the lunch bag for mid-day fuel. Cliff Bars slip into pockets. Boot bags bulge with gear. Speed suits stretch over strong legs, and heavy parkas with hoods zip up as we push open the door.
Morning ritual of a ski racer mama.
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