Most days Kato wakes me early, and we eat breakfast together while the rest of the household continues to snooze.

So we are present for that early light as it pours through the floor-to-ceiling window on the north end of the room. Pure, white, and piercing.

On the dishtowels.

On the butsodan.

On my favorite pot of Seiko’s that sits on the table where the Behr family used to share their meals when Robbi was growing up.

The morning light is a gift, a reward for early waking, a moment of sweet transition that lasts only as long as it takes to walk across the room.

I’m so glad I happened to have my camera on me.

I’m so grateful to Kato for pulling me out of bed in the first place.