Rested. Restored. Coffee, bacon. A spectrum of sounds stretching from birds to Beethoven, Jeff Buckley to Slayer to Merle Haggard to Dead Kennedys. The water breaks the shore while the sun breaks the grey. The cup of hot black: steam rising next to the keys. Words of life, death, love.

Light gently kisses my eyes

As the sound of the ocean waves say hello

Wrapped up in his gentle arms

And freshly laundered linens

We lay there unhurried with no where we need to go

Whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears

Laughing and smiling like we are teenagers again

The moment that your eyes open, roll to one side and wait until the first wave of thoughts, anxieties and yesterday's earworm washes through the filter of your mind. These are not important things, merely detritus from the day before, and not worthy of your fresh attention. Check to see if your toes and fingers are warm. If they are cold, rearrange the blankets so that they are bundled and cosy. Now go back to sleep for another 15 minutes.

Wake up to white curtains wafting in on a sea zephyr. Watch the shadows dash to and fro over walls, rainbows from prisms in the window flirting with the shade. Warm feet on sun heated tiles, push past curtains onto the patio, gaze at the water. Throw off robe and leap into liquid, float awhile before sculling back to shore. Breakfast, brown eggs, fresh avocado, nectarines and a handful of almonds. Then to the page, the guitar, the dance. A walk into the pueblo, through market stalls, a café con amigas and then a reading, group meditation, adventure with body and spirit. A stranger who feels like home. Back now to wander the familiar vistas of mi casita, the anarchistic sunset, revolutionary moon. A paw, some fingers blowsing through the air, painting provocative dreams over flesh and eyes. Drift into sleep with a sense of being held, rocked, whether alone or conjoined until morning.

You are walking with your loved one down an old wooden bridge in the middle of forestry, carrying an innertube and sunscreen. You aren't really sure where you are, or what's going on, everything is a big happy blur. Your loved one is wearing those sexy shades, the ones with the white rim on the edges. Suddenly, you don't know how you got there, but you are jumping into a pond. You close your eyes, and dive right in.

You open up your eyes and see blackness. What just happened? Maybe you're still underwater. You wait a moment, then realize you are oddly warm and snuggled. Looking to your shoulder you see the green lights of your alarm clock, 2:31, huh. Your thought process is slowly coming in, like a hole in the sand, slowly filled by ocean current. The first thought coming to your mind is yesterday. Such an amazing day. That reminds you, tomorrow is supposed to be better. You remark how silent it is, like the world has shut up for a moment. You analyze every detail of tomorrow, planning what you'll do, what to wear, how to act.

You think and think and suddenly you are in pitch blackness again. You open your eyes and you're just coming out of the water. You see that loved one laughing. You still have no clue what's going on. You just go with it, following the blur of the world surrounding you.

Suddenly you hear ringing, a constant beep. It interrupts everything, confusing the hell out of you. You must stop that noise. Opening your eyes you instinctually slap something over your shoulder. You don't know why, it just felt right. Looking over you realize it's your alarm clock, which is now silent. You hear laughter, realizing it's the neighbor's kids outside. You're unaware why, but today feels like an amazing day, and you somehow know everything you're going to do. You get up and look for specific clothes. You don't know why, it just feels right. Once you're dressed you leave your room, forgetful that you've started you day 6 hours ago.

Newborn sunlight streams through the crystal clear glass; the soft powdery hues of my bedroom reflect it back in a vivid and explosive way. Yet, the result is not jarring. Instead, it soothes me. I admire the beauty of it.

The windows are open and a faint breeze ruffles the curtains. I can scarcely feel its touch on my body - it’s the same temperature as my skin. Good morning, Sunday. The house is silent. I am alone. I close my eyes again to absorb it and concentrate on the absolute peace. The only sound comes from the dawn chorus of birds outside in the trees. Their song is perfect, natural harmony.

Clasping my hands together, I s-t-r-e-t-c-h my arms up over my head. Taking a deep inhale, I smell them, my early morning lovers: coffee and bacon. Someone has prepared breakfast for me, with fresh eggs from our hens, and left it on a tray beside the bed. It’s still hot. The steam from the coffee wafts and curls as it rides the gentle draft. Folded next to the cutlery sits the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle with an automatic pencil. I still can't do it in pen.

My husband is out, walking the dog. It’s just one of the ways he says, “I love you.”

I'm no longer asleep, and I know I have been in bed too long, but I keep my eyes closed and my ears peeled. The head of my bed is under a window and sunlight is peeking around the curtains as I hear action in the kitchen. Someone is looking for doughnuts.

In past weekends I have arranged my pillows to appear as though I am still in bed, then hid behind the closet door, but this time I continue to feign sleep when I hear whispering outside my door.

The handle slowly turns, making no sound. They have practiced this dozens of times and have their technique honed to a fine point, rivaling any SWAT team in the nation. Once the door starts to open, it is thrown wide, my 11 year old son bursting through the doorway to pounce on my feet, straddling and pinning them to the bed.

Then a 6 year old girl launches herself onto one of my arms as they both start tickling, targeting my most sensitive areas; my feet and my arm pits.

"We want doughnuts!" is their demand.

Which is fine, because I do, too.

First I open my eyes, and hold them for this nothing I can't recall. Hold it, everything will come back soon, just breath until the haze of your night clears. Try to get up, it'll help, it really will. Toss those greedy covers back to the bed they crawled from and be on your way. I brush my teeth cover them up so no one can see my beauty. Followed by purging my face of all settled dust to look like all the rest. Slap on a few dead presidents worth of skin and fibers and boom. You're off

There is no beeping clock, no screaming mum, no rubbish truck on the road. No annoying car alarms, or barking dog, or meowing cat at your door.

You just wake when your body finally decides yes, that's it, I've had enough, and now it's time to get up and start living all over again.

The symphony slowly escalates up into the ceiling. The images swirling behind my eyelids start to fade. I feel my body rippling into consciousness. A warm hand slides over my tummy and wraps around my waist. I smile. Sunshine filters through the curtains like ascending Angels. I smell vanilla and warm skin. He looks at me with his majestic blue eyes and whispers "good morning, wife."