Bark, bark, zen, zen

Hushed dawn of a below zero morning, wondering how long Ryan had already been at work, peeking at the edges of the blackout shades -- is that light or just snow reflection? Then -- knock, knock, "MOMMY!" and the day is off. The grizzly cub joins me and his penguin brother to share the first minutes of the day. How is it that their skin seems as young as the day they were born first thing in the morning? Soon, my parents dog is barking us awake, demanding that we visit this coldest day so far in the new year while Elliott has woken up his uncle in the artic basement guestspace by way of the clock's zen melody. Dietrich is pushing coffee on the adults so that those last few promises of gifts -- even two boxes, later proven big enough for a child to eat breakfast in -- can finally be opened. Ryan and I will have to wait to open ours, when he returns, most likely after the dusk wisks past and another moonlit night rests on us.