…. I write something every day?
The heat is rattling up in the radiator. I love the sound. It makes think of when I was very young and we lived on 52nd street. In the early hours of the morning the radiators would begin to hiss and rattle. Sometimes clanking loudly.
The wind has picked up. The evergreen out this window is dancing to the wind’s chaotic rhythm. Not much else happening out in the park this morning. Now that the dead trees are gone, the hawk has lost its lookout perch. The crows aren’t coming around much either. The foot path a more clearly visible now. Occasionally someone will come by with a dog. There was a man with a large black suitcase on wheels that went by a while ago. That was interesting.
So, here I sit. Puzzles worked. Coffee almost empty. Pages written. Prayers said aloud. Quiet time.
I am extremely grateful to be alive and sober this morning. I’m grateful for this quiet time with the heat rattling up and the wind whipping about. I’m grateful for the way the light plays on the red brick. I’m grateful for some work today and a phone call from a far away friend. I’m grateful for the steady counsel of trusted wise men and women. I’m grateful for plenty of food and warm sweaters, for my neighbors. For a car to drive. For curiosity and possibility. For the willingness to sit with my discomfort. For swimming at the Y.
Spinster Life 