There is something magical that happens in the wee hours of the morning. The silver lighting on the fresh lain snow reflects icicles on the backyard's evergreens. Deer perk up at the tap of my finger tip on the window pane and cock their heads to listen before arching back down to dig for any food left at the end of winter. The quiet is beautiful. Magic really happens while we sleep, so if we can catch it before the world wakes up, we can keep a piece of it for ourselves.
That's how I spent my early morning, sick on the couch, staring out the patio door and thinking about how great life is, even between Kleenex breaks.
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