I Wished To Be The Morning Dove…

I was awake but couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes. Warm sunshine fluttered its way in through the open window accompanied by the heavy scent of pine and wild roses.

The morning breeze beckoned… I arose…

My heart was weary from crying all night. My soul tired from the struggle. My mind beaten by the cruel sport of twisted reality.

Standing wistfully, elbows on the sill, face cupped in my hands, I felt sunbeams resting on my skin and the cool air brush against me. Closing my eyes again, I commissioned the sound of the whispering pines to fill a void deep inside. A feeling that cannot be explained…

I wished to be the morning dove who’s song was lifted up to the awakening sky in peaceful melody. Poised there on a high branch she calmly, confidently sang… not caring who was listening or what they thought. Her song was special, it was her own. It was the song her Maker had given her to proclaim to the world that daylight had come, a new day had dawned, a fresh start was at hand.

To be that creature, so serene, so secure in who she was. Singing… to the pines, the wild roses, the sunrise, the west wind…

May the wings of the morning carry her high above the pines to far away places, beyond the sunrise. Her mellow voice echoing over the waves of the ocean where trouble and worry drown to happiness and freedom!

Take me there…

Not wanting to face who was beyond my bedroom door, I remained transfixed at the window taking in the peaceful scene that was before me.

Despite my efforts to keep the sky colored with splashes of orange and pink, the brilliant sunrise hues gave way to solid sapphire. My chest rose and fell with a sigh…

Turning from the window, I placed my hand on the door. Still in confusion over the fight that had arisen out of nowhere the night before. What had I done wrong? What had I missed? Whatever it was, I would strive to make it up today! My resolve; a fresh start is at hand.

Staring coldly at the blaring TV, he refused to look at me as I entered the room. I softy said, “Good morning…” and made my way to the kitchen. Swallowing the lump in my throat and wiping tears from my eyes I measured the grounds, dumped the water in, turned on the coffee pot. I grabbed his favorite mug from the cupboard, vanilla caramel creamer from the fridge and waited…

As soon as it whistled I filled the cup exactly how he liked it. Trying to control the hurricane of emotions that warred inside of me, I took a deep breath and returned to the living room to offer my gift of love. To prove to him that no matter what, I was willing to get over whatever went wrong and go on with love and favor in my heart!

It took all the bravery I could muster to stand there a fool for what seemed like years, coffee cup in outstretched quivering hand awaiting response. His eyes met mine just long enough to shoot hateful daggers through my heart. Emotionless, he took the cup, stood up, walked to the kitchen, looked over his shoulder at me and dumped the contents down the drain…

Me effort, my love, my respect, all my try… me… he dumped… A splash and a swirl then gone… the cup thrown to the counter.

Without a word he slammed the door behind him and I watched out the kitchen window as he drove away.

I touched a drop of coffee that had fallen to the counter. Looking in the sink where he had so cruelly tossed my hope, I watched as a splashed up drop slid down the side to join its cast off comrades. My bitter tears soon followed them all.