7am and she wakes me up. We get out of bed and come down the stairs together. I prepare her breakfast and she eats with gusto. I brush my teeth, open the curtains, make a coffee. She follows me to her blue mat, sits and starts cleaning her face. Our breaths creating little puffs of steam in the cold morning air. The fog outside distills the early sun rays, enveloping everything in a misty pale cloud of light. There is steam coming off the deck railings, only in the spots where the sun can reach. If I strain to listen, I can hear the faint bubbling of the tiny stream at the bottom of our garden. Everything is so still. Time is immortalised in those moments, when it's just me, her and the world. It feels good to be alive.