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  • As I make my bed this morning,
    always right after rising,
    I realize, the very importance
    of this ritual of mine.

    Beginning somewhere
    in my sixth year of life,
    My sister and I decided
    to surprise mom
    who loved the surprise,
    but also said it can
    now be something
    done everyday,
    and so it has.

    It signifies the start of my day
    followed by dressing
    then walking the dog,
    tea, a bite to eat, and
    living the day.

    Takes just moments,
    but means more
    than a moment
    ever held.

    No matter how
    good or bad or ugly
    i am feeling,
    it gets done.
    It's importance to
    my being was realized
    not so long ago

    it is what kept
    me from the deep
    end of a three year
    depression,
    Recognized it
    but sought no help,
    (not advising-just what i didn't do)
    As long as I made my bed
    and walked the dog
    I can survive this
    she told me.
    Working was added
    after a short leave,
    but all the time in between
    and after work hours
    wasted, never to be recovered,
    but the ritual remained and
    wellness slowly regained.

    As important as making
    the bed is the unmaking.
    How does one know
    each day, when going back
    to an unmade bed?
    Pulling down the covers,
    is closure to my day,
    the ending of the beginning,
    A way to count the day as done,
    a fresh start for sleep,
    knowing a new one begins
    once I make the bed.
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