For Olivia

I stand on the balcony in my nightdress in the nacreous white morning sunshine, a cup of coffee steaming in my hand.  The slow warmth of the sun, even at 7am slips under the flirty breeze on my skin and grounds me, even up here on the 14th floor.  I can see the fish swimming below in the lake, shoals dispersing and coagulating around the rocks and the turtles.  The other balconies around me are mostly empty, although there is an old man gazing purposefully downwards from the next block, about two floors below me; a little too far away to see if he is a lawai like me.
Best of all, Olivia sleeps, all 7 weeks of her.
This is what peace is like.