Waking up was like emerging from a dream with blurred outlines. Slowly, senses roused, longing for the promise of a new day. Through the window, wind was blowing snow off the roof, turning it into a gleaming cold rain, every sparkling flake pierced by sunbeams.
Heading toward the kitchen, he heard the familiar gurgle of the coffee maker, shortly enhanced by its fresh smell. She was there, reading a book, fitting perfectly into the almost silence of the awakening house. He waited behind the door frame for a while, taking his time to appreciate this feeling held in suspension. She gracefully turned a page with a velvety caress, a wrinkle of concentration between her eyes. He saw wisdom in the furrow in her brow, cherishing this mark of the hours she spent loving, living, worrying and caring for life itself and everybody around her. The light of concentration in her eyes could not quench the subtle concern that was there.