Nearly 10 months after my previous appearance, I’m back – for today, anyway.
Easter morning – 5:15 – can’t sleep. Peer out the door at the sky turning from dark to early light; turn on the coffee; open the sliding glass door: peepers. birds. breeze. lights twinkling thru the trees. a lone car sliding down the road. the rooster across that road. Morning.
Wrapped in my christmas quilt (it was handy), the coffee and I experience the reflection of morning approaching from behind, we face west.
The light makes the sky appear blue – an oasis in the Pacific Northwestern Grey perhaps? As the light becomes stronger, so does the grey appear – a resilient and ever present pall.
We are 10 weeks out from departing for the Midwest. There is much to do. There is much to consider. Much to grieve. Much to hope for.
Nearly 61 years on this Earth – and still counting. “Some are denied the opportunity,” said Anne, many Easter weeks ago, when I lamented the approach of my 35th birthday. I am still shamed by my sorrow. I am still grateful to be here.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” asks Mary Oliver.
This morning, I have no answer. Just a bunch of questions. And who knows how much time.