Independence Morning by Teal H.S. FieldsI don’t know what it was that stirred me from my slumber. Perhaps it was the internal clock of a teacher’s mind, conditioned by my years of occupational habituation as a public classroom teacher. Or, maybe it was the sweet, soft stirring of my husband breathing into me. If I had wanted to, I could have reduced my awakening to mere brain chemistry, but I didn’t. Maybe, it was the mere fact that I wasn’t as young as I once was, and my body was signaling the only way it knew that I just had to use the bathroom. No matter what rationale I could provide for my eyes opening, I’m opting to believe that it was the metaphorical sound of God’s giving and God’s taking found in the rhythmic sound of the waves from the Atlantic Ocean crashing against the beach ri
