The workout clothes set out the night before, a symbol of intention to be donned well before the return of dawn.
The night commences with tossing and turning, only to be reminded of the innocent dark chocolate square— apparently enough caffeine to keep one awake for more hours than the ounces it weighed.
Sleep finally sneaks in, only to be interrupted by the pitter patter of a child, the tears of growing pains audibly matching the growth I've seen.
As the alarm finally rings to announce the end of sleep, the snooze button beckons to be pushed and pushed until finally "late" becomes "too late."
Bleary-eyed and stiff, the morning begins. Gratitude for the coffee already prepared the night before, the fail safe to a long night.
The workout clothes remain neatly arranged, hopeful for another morn.

