My coffee maker starts grinding beans at precisely 6:00 a.m. most mornings. That is my indication that the day is just beckoning for me to come join it. After a couple of tosses and turns, I wake up to a quiet house except for the percolating of the blessed morning juice I will soon consume. It will be my companion while I read the Word of God, check my email and then follow up with my favorite Twitterers. After pouring my first cup drenched with fat-free French Vanilla Coffee Mate creamer and some Splenda, I round the corner and peer up the stairs and notice my youngest son’s light left on. I realize that it was on all night long because he spent the night in my bed taking his Daddy’s place while he was on a trip. I sigh a heavy sigh and am slightly annoyed that said light has not only cost us more money in utility expenses but has also cost the universe something, too. Because I have gone green, you understand. Forgetting the light because I am not awake enough to go up the stairs, I proceed to my study. This is the place where I find my solace. The view from its window isn’t necessarily a breathtaking one but it certainly causes me to breathe deep as I survey the acreage nearby with trees dispersed here, there and yonder. There is something peaceful about watching God’s creation do what it does, which is pretty much be. Finishing up those morning tasks, I remember the load of laundry that needs to be tossed once again to remove the wrinkles that accumulated overnight. After 10 minutes I return to begin the folding process. I retrieve jeans, shirts, socks and pop-ice wrappers that were left in the pockets of my oldest sons shorts. Slightly irritated I mumble something to myself about having a dime for every time I found one of those little suckers in the laundry. But as quickly as I get annoyed or irritated with the piddly stuff that my children do, I am exhorted by my future 55 year-old empty nester that I will miss all of this. She tells me that I won’t always buy fruit roll-ups or drive the carpool or wipe down hand and footprints off walls or convince them that vegetables are really better than candy. No, the day is quickly approaching when I won’t do much, if any, of the above. I’ll find myself folding laundry and something will remind me of the pop-ice wrappers I used to find and I’ll smile because I’ll actually miss them. I won’t find lights on anymore but sort of wish I would because it would mean activity is near. I won’t have an assortment of Little Debbie snacks in the house because they are not great for an aging woman’s health. My lightswitch plates will be clean. My floor will hardly need vacuuming but I’ll do it anyway because I like the the stripes it makes on the carpet. And I will call a friend and reminisce about those days where they equally drove me crazy and caused my heart to stir in the same moment. We’ll talk about the great times with our kids and we’ll wonder when they are going to give us grandchildren that we can spoil and send right back to them. It’s hard to imagine that I’ll be there before I know it. While I feel I’ve wished away too many months, even years of their lives, I have chosen to live in the here and now for the rest of their days. Sure, frustrations will arise and I will wonder how much longer until they go off to college, but in my heart, I’ll always want them near me. For they are my boys and I am their momma. Nobody loves them like their momma.