On Being Pretty Brave

I open my eyes

And recall the twenty or so times

I threw off the covers last night.

I roll on to my left side

And blink away the blur of night.

I sigh to replace a wish for more sleep.

I list in my head all the good things I can think of,

And my chest tightens when

I give thanks even for the hardest thing.

I push off the covers,

And I grab for my shawl, pushing my feet into my slippers.

I go downstairs, craving my hot cup of morning tea.

I draw in deep breath and begin again.

And I find my way to a new day, just like I did yesterday.

I think that’s pretty brave.