Sometimes, a commitment to your dreams is the only way to move forward.

The leather loveseat is smooth and cool beneath my bare legs. It’s dark outside as thunder roars in the distance. I reach for my coffee, sitting on an end table to my right.

I’m later than normal getting to my office. Normally, it’s the cat who wakes me, but my sleep was fitful last night, which means my internal clock is off this morning.

My mind has already shifted past the initial “start your day” phase by the time I make it to my sacred space.

The coffee is weak, and I grimace. Our stash was almost gone when we prepared the pot last night, and I trusted my husband when he said there was enough.

Clearly, there wasn’t.

I debate about tossing the cup and starting over with a fresh one from the Keurig.

Instead, I make one and mix it with the weak stuff. A single cup of brewed coffee only amounts to a few cents, but I feel better when I’m not wasteful.

Finally! The strength of my coffee is adequate, and I’m in my office, ready to write.

And then I freeze.

It wasn’t always like this…

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