Blissful Mornings - The Lantern and the Tree

The morning came quietly, without fanfare. Just a shift in the light. Just the feeling that

something had arrived.

She came to the swaddle cottage early—before the air grew heavy with sun, before the birds

had finished their first songs. Her footsteps were soft. Her breath still slow from dreaming.

And there, on the sill where no one left things… sat a copper lantern.

Old. Warm. Silent. Its surface brushed with age, with stories, with something sacred.

Next to it: a small clay pot. From it grew a young citrus tree—tiny white blossoms and green

fruit, both blooming together in a way that felt impossible and perfect.

She touched the lantern gently. The metal was cool. Not untouched. Just… left behind.

Someone had visited. But who? And why citrus?

She searched her memory for meaning, but found only the soft rustling of the coconut trees.

The wind passed gently through the fronds and seemed to pause—just there—as if it too

were listening.

She sat quietly on the floor beside the window. Not to sew. Not to search. Just to feel.

And in that stillness, she remembered: the lantern was small enough to carry. Small enough

to bring with her. Small enough to light the way into the unknown.

That afternoon, she began to prepare her next fabric—another piece for the blanket. But her

thoughts were no longer only in the daylight.

She was thinking of the evening. Of returning. Of a rendezvous with the unknown.

-Bliss Chains Authors