The song I chose was für Alina by Arvo Pärt (315 words) Ellen had sat in the rocking chair on her porch, looking out at the bay, every morning for nearly a decade now. She loved to watch the birds flit about, see the sun rise, and watch as the morning dew dried off the tall grass. She watched the trees sway, and felt a gentle, encompassing calm. There was something so special about the sound of the waves crashing below, the wind rustling the plants and trees, and the fauna chirped and chittered away. She couldn't remember how her little ritual had started, only that she hoped it would never end. It didn't matter what the weather was, or the season, or anything like that. Every morning, without fail, she would go out at dawn, and stay until well into mid-morning. Even storms did not matter to her. She would go out, sit down on her rocking chair, and watch as nature took its course, however it wished to do so that day. Ellen wasn't so sure she could stop doing it if she wanted to, the tradition was so engraved in her. The rest of the day would vary, but she never strayed too far from the house, never ever. She hadn't been far from the house since before her little morning ritual had began. She couldn't quite recall why exactly those two things correlated, but she knew they did somehow. Not that it mattered. Ellen was happy at the house. She was happy with her morning routine. Ellen was happy. Even as the house grew old and dilapidated as the years went by, even as her rocking chair's leg had splintered of age, she was happy. She sat on the porch, the old, uncared for, porch, and swung her little, ten year old legs. How long had she been ten years old? She couldn't recall. About as long as her morning routine, she supposed.
