Spilled Hearts

I was in a hurry one morning and didn’t have much time to get all of my things together before dashing out the door. 

It was my own doing, as the sweet song of the warm bed sheets beckoned me to stay in bed a little longer, despite the fact that the day was not going anywhere. Minutes tend to feel like seconds and we grasp at time when we’re on the go, so that we never feel fully satisfied because we don’t have the freedom to stop in the moment and appreciate it for the way it fills us up. 

Those are my kinds of mornings, too. 

The slow, luxurious kind that wrap you up like velvet in their rich sunrises and crisp air, punctuated only by the smell of coffee and the taste of the tea. 

Rushing never appealed to me and tends to drain me faster than anything else on the planet and that particular morning I was feeling all kinds of tired before I’d even left the house. 

While getting ready I spilled a small amount of my tea on the front of my iPad while getting ready for work and stopping in my tracks, I realized the moment just had its way with me, whether the constraints of minutes and seconds like it or not. 

There in the small spill that was insignificant enough, a heart shape jumped off the now tea-speckled screen.

And in that moment I granted myself permission to have the kind of morning I wanted. 

Slowed down, filled with gratitude and overflowing with wonder. 

Justlikethat, I gave the moment back to myself and the heart was a signpost along the way. 


Cheryl Costello

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