Greg is still asleep. I am sitting on our porch drinking espresso and savoring the waking noises of the jungle.

At 4am, the sounds of the early morning forest coaxed me awake. I stroked my husband’s back as the roosters called and I listened with a smile upon my face. Greg stirred briefly in the bed next me and mumbled a reply when I awed that I’ve never had the pleasure of being called to start my day by a rooster.

“How do you know if it’s a rooster if you’ve never heard a rooster before?”

“Everyone knows the sound of a rooster!” I retorted and I continued, “they sound exactly like how you’re told they sound or what you hear and see in the movies.”

Greg drifted back to sleep as I shifted from side to side in our bed draped with mosquito netting. I felt like a princess sleeping in soft white linen framing the bed. Although I knew this kind of canopy was not like the $9.99 one I coerced my mother to by me from Ikea when I was a teen. This one was actually functional, designed to keep us from being eaten alive from the flying insects here in the jungle. I finally found some sleep, only to awaken again to the rooster tempting me again to join him and the other creatures of the mysterious forest as they started their day.

Finally, I placed my feet on the floor, clutched my cell and noted another ant crawling on it—clearly the ant infestation in our room from the night before was not a success, trotted to the bathroom, and dressed.

Right now my husband is laying in our protected nest of ethereal beauty, unaware that I have skulked outside to write, to sit in stillness, to ponder, to be alone, to just be. Would he be worried when he wakes up? Would he be angry that I didn’t wake him? We are on our honeymoon…But alas; my husband knows I am too free a spirit to be tamed. He knows that my computer and the need to write call to me like sirens. He’d surely be happy I made sure to take this time to share how I feel in this very moment. After all, I was compelled to write. I wanted to recall this very moment for the rest of my life. I wanted to ensure that I never forget how I felt in this exact place in time so that I can hold onto it. I needed to document how I have never been more ecstatic to be alive at 6:30am and writing. My soul is coursing with energy. The animals, the insects, the rustling of the massive palms—they are dancing just for me. Alive with zest, and tearing as I admire the beauty that this world has to offer, my place in this world is small compared to such splendor and as far as I’m concerned that is a wonderful thing.

I have finished my espresso. I will make myself another and meditate to the sounds of nature singing to me. My soul is on fire.