The up-shot of taking Chewy, the big eared dog, out for his early morning ablutions, is that I get to step into the morning light, the way it sweeps across the yard in ribbons, lighting up leaves, the tips of trees, landing a yellow square on my red kitchen sink.
Once up, I tend to stay up.
Owen, the old orange cat purring
Everyone rests on Sunday mornings at my house.
Unless you have small children, you know who you are.
I remember those days well.
Big Bird was my morning babysitter. screw you, Mitt.
Last week I was away at a conference.
My room-mate snored [like a freight train.]
Our room had no outside window.
I was breathlessly claustrophobic.
We moved to a new room.
I was away for three nights.
It felt long and odd, in spite of the fact that I am often
full of wander-lust, to be away, doing something else!
What is that something else?
"I don't want to do this alone," Michael said on the phone.
"Do what alone?" I asked.
A Sunday thought on marriage,
(or any other relationship)
Even if we live alone, we are not alone.
We are loved, even if its your mail carrier that brings you the most joy.
I'm taking a class that had us write our personal mission statement. I scribbled pages about being an inspirational speaker, a well-loved writer, performing on stages around the world...
yada yada yada I confess to all of it
but from my sofa, it feels much simpler:
let peace come first.
allow for ease and flow.
ps. just for today, what's your mission?
trust your path.