Cold Mornings

*****

            Light peaks through ragged curtains, sending a path of light across my face.  I can see the light through closed eyelids. Groaning, I roll over to face the dark side of my room. The air is cold on my face. The temperature must have dropped considerably last night. I bundle the blankets closer around my body, suddenly aware of the lack of heat in the house. Wrapped up in blankets, I lay like that for a few minutes before daring to get out of bed. A pair of slippers lay neatly by the bedroom door. The floor is made of wooden boards, which means my toes are going to freeze when I walk over to my slippers. Groaning again, I sit up in bed keeping my blankets tightly woven around me. I cringe and then leap out of bed, pulling every blanket with me as I run across the room, nearly running into the wall as I wedge my feet into my slippers. Prancing around my room, I attempt to warm up my toes. I should have invested in an onesie that covered my feet. Instead I’m stuck with one that ends in elastics, so that I can roll it up if I get too warm. Great idea for the warmer days, terrible for the colder ones.

            Still wrapped in blankets from my bed, I trudge through the hall and down the stairs to the living room where our fireplace sits, cold. I grab some pieces of wood that lie beside it, and place them in the middle of the fireplace. The pile of wood is getting low, and I worry that it may take a few days yet for the next supply of wood to be shipped in from the cities on the coast. I place the wood on a bed of ashes, the remains of previous wood that had lived and died to fuel a fire. Crumpling up some old newspapers, I strategically place it within the fireplace, then take a match from the matchbox and light the fire.