On the day after Christmas

The morning has a gentle feel to it. There is no wind or even a breeze. The air is perfectly still. There are crows convening on the grass. A man rides by on a bicycle. The sky is light but not sunny. There is a veil of clouds making the sky just white. I made coffee. I slept late. Until nine thirty or so. Is that right? Can’t be. It’s nine thirty now, so, I have been up for a bit. Long enough to have made coffee and washed my face. I forgot that I had worn mascara to Christmas dinner. Gave myself a fright in the mirror. Funny. I hardly ever try and apply make up now. I’m finding it almost impossible with my trembling body. Also, I look so “made up” with more than a touch of lipstick and a little eye liner…the eye liner being a hazardous endeavor. Don’t want to poke my eye out.

So, it’s quiet and I’m grateful. I’m felling “well”. A bit of a sugar hangover. Leaves a bit of brain fog. I’m staring into space day dreaming. Of a tattoo, of traveling, of a lover, of what to eat, of homework that needs my attention. I am so very grateful to be alive and sober, for the changes that bring me closer to wholeness, for this apartment and so many books. For a choice of jackets and too many sweaters. For clean clothes and hot and cold running water. For my cousins and friends near and far. 

Here are some photos from Christmas Eve’s Urban Release Retreat. Enjoy.