Begin by finding a quiet space.
Sit comfortably.

Close your eyes,
or let them rest softly on a single point in the room.

Breathe in deeply…and exhale slowly.
Breathe in stillness.
Breathe out everything else.

Let yourself settle into the moment.
Into the hush of early morning.
Let the quiet wrap around you like a soft blanket.

Now—
Picture yourself at a small table.
Morning light is barely seeping in.
There is steam rising from the cup in your hands,
curling upward like breath, like memory.

Feel the warmth in your palms.
This is a sacred moment.
You are here.
And someone else
who once held their coffee, too.

You feel their absence.
But in this stillness, notice:
it’s not an emptiness.
It’s presence, softened and shifted.
Memory resting beside you, across the table.
Like a familiar smile,
just out of view.

With each inhale, draw in the warmth of a shared past.
With each exhale, let go of the ache, just for now.
Inhale…a quiet morning.
Exhale…the weight of longing.

Let yourself remember.
Not with pain, but with tenderness.
The sound of clinking cups.
The shape of a grin.
The feeling of being known in silence.

You don’t have to let go of the love.
You can carry it.
Like the steam rising gently…
Like the dew slipping from leaves…
Like one more poured morning coffee,
waiting patiently for an answer.

Now slowly,
bring your awareness back to the present.
Back to your breath.
Back to the cup in your hands,
or from the warmth of a cup held by another.
Back to this morning, this stillness, this space.

When you’re ready, gently open your eyes.
Let the hush remain with you.

And as this day begins,
may you be comforted by the nearness of what was—
and the quiet beauty of what still remains.

©2025, William Arnold