sixteen
The golden morning sun hits the window ledge. Her warming beams stroke the top of my head. I squint, and my eyelashes tickle my cheeks. I take a moment to realize I’m in my old room. I stretch my lazy limbs and rub the remains of a deep sleep from my eyes. A flimsy fog lifts with reluctance. My old room. I roll my neck back and forth, and my jaws release a huge yawn. Stiffness has crept itself to my bones. Two days in the saddle, only to return today.
Something’s stirring in my being. A disquieting, ever so still. Must be sleep that hasn’t left yet. Sweat pricks down my collar. Too hot. I shove the woolen blanket aside. Prayer first, for a good start of the day, and a fortunate journey returning home.
Where’s my robe? I toss the blanket. No robe to be seen. Maybe Sangmo has take
