morning in edinburgh
It’s 8:45 on an Edinburgh morning and I miss you.
The weather report says rain again today and the sky outside the window seems to agree, but I’ve a nice cuppa steaming away and it’s cozy inside, and in a bit I’ll have a bit of toast with too much butter-not because I’m hungry, but because there’s something perfectly comforting about toast and the making of toast, and I need the comfort because it’s 8:45 in the morning and I miss you.
I’m wearing some old jeans and a blue cambric shirt that’s still far too new but will surely become my favorite after it’s been worn and washed a couple hundred times, until it’s faded and soft and a bit frayed at the cuffs, and by then it’ll be fragile enough that I’ll only wear it on Sunday mornings and you’ll tease me about it and I’ll complain even though I won’t really mind, and we’ll have buttered toast and tea and look out the window at rainy Edinburgh, and maybe I’ll remember this morning and how much I missed you at 8:45 in the morning.
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