I woke as the light was returning. I lay on my side looking at the small window but could see little. It was wet with melting frost, as white as the flaking paint on the window sash.
My mind wandered for a bit, thinking of the day and what needed to be done, when suddenly the window sash glowed pink pulling me back into the moment. I turned my head to the larger window at the foot of the bed.
Each of the six panes of old wavy glass was hot pink.
I knew it wouldn’t last, it never does.
I watched as the pink softened to the color that Joseph’s Baby Aspirin tasted like. (I never could reconcile the color of the aspirin with the flavor, but I loved it like candy).
Now all the red drained and I was looking at rippled sand under flowing water, more texture than color.
When that dissolved to faded denim, I knew it was time to get up.