Sunday, May 21, 2017

Weekend Mornings

Growing up, Saturdays meant mom would bake. Bread. Buns. Cinnamon rolls. The smell drifted over the house. My mouth would water. There were times we ate her bread straight out of the oven, butter melting before it was fully spread.

Chores. Lawns to mow. Apples to pick. Bushes to trim. Backyard football or baseball to play. Bikes to ride. Trees to climb. Rafts for traveling up and down the river. The woods to explore.

Sundays were bacon and eggs and toast. Maybe sweet rolls from Bauer’s Bakery. Always church. Holy Angels for the nine-fifteen. Left side. One of the first ten rows or so from the front. Back home, a Packer game to watch. A dinner of fried chicken, rolls and mashed potatoes Then the Ed Sullivan Show.

Time passed. Years drifted by and now I have a family of my own.

I get up early, though not as early as weekdays. Silence in the mornings. Kim is out running and won’t be back for an hour or so. The girls, if they’re home, still sleeping.

The sun peeks over the tall trees that form a wall in our backyard. I revel in the silence. Broken, by a woodpecker seeking its breakfast, other birds greeting each other with chirps and calls.

As neighbors wake, the familiar sound of lawnmowers come to life. Cars drive past our house, occupants on their way to the grocery store or on to some such errand.

Still, our family room is quiet, peaceful. No TV. No radio. Revel in silence. Gathering my thoughts. Thinking through a scene or dialogue of my current book, my current work in progress. Prewriting in my head- an important step for me before I pull out the laptop and peck away at the keyboard.

Bailey at my feet or laying on the couch in her room. Lazy. Peaceful. At rest. Just like me, I suppose. Not anxious to begin the day, but rather, to begin it slowly.

So grateful for these mornings.

Weekend Mornings to recharge. Weekend Mornings to take stock. Weekend Mornings to reflect.

Important, I think.

Plenty of time for work. Plenty of time to be busy. Not enough time to rest.

Sigh. Smile. A nod of the head. And, something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

To My Readers:
Please feel free to connect with me at:

Twitter at @jrlewisauthor

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If you like Thriller/Mystery fiction, check out my novels:

Available on Amazon for .99 the Lives Trilogy Prequel, Taking Lives:
FBI Agent Pete Kelliher and his partner search for the clues behind the bodies of six boys left in various and remote parts of the country. Even though they don’t know one another, the lives of FBI Agent Kelliher and two boys become interwoven with the same thread that Pete Kelliher holds in his hand. The three of them are on a collision course and when that happens, their lives are in jeopardy as each search for a way out.

Stolen Lives, Book One of the Lives Trilogy:
Two thirteen year old boys are abducted off a safe suburban street. Kelliher and his team of FBI agents have 24 hours to find them or they’ll end up like all the others- dead! They have no leads, no clues, and nothing to go on. And the possibility exists that one of his team members might be involved.

Shattered Lives, Book Two of the Lives Trilogy:
Six men escaped and are out for revenge. The boys, recently freed from captivity, are in danger and so are their families, but they don’t know it. The FBI has no clues, no leads, and nothing to go on and because of that, cannot protect them.

Splintered Lives, Book Three of the Lives Trilogy:
It began in Arizona with death and it ends in Arizona in death. A 14 year old boy has a price on his head, but he and his family don’t know it. Their family vacation turns into a trip to hell. Out gunned and outnumbered, can this boy protect his father and brothers? Without knowing who these men are? Or how many there are? Or when they might come for him? 

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Thank you for your comment. I welcome your thought. Joe