Tuesday, April 29, 2014

morning



i wake to the sound of birdsong. 

i kneel in bed, heart pleas and heart drawn to my girl, suffering and so far away from me; hoping that her body and spirit can recover soon from her ordeal with that horrid salmonella.

i stretch and take those first steps to the bathroom, body still sore from saturday's painting job and yesterday's run. 

i am gripped suddenly with pain from another cyst, it seems, and feel myself starting to faint, ears ringing.

i try to keep breathing, and feel relief that i don't go down.

i look into the mirror and see i'm as pale as a ghost.

i peek out of the blinds and am relieved to see clear, blue skies; no sign of another snowfall like we had yesterday morning.

i make my way slowly downstairs, deciding i'm really liking this change from red to green.

i call down to make sure he's awake.

i whistle and clap my hands so she'll come down and then she pulls on her chain all excited and we go out to the morning chill and early springtime sunrise.

i notice the sea of frothy pink blooms and remind myself to capture it later.

i turn on some music to get some get-up-and-go, and while we're at it, check email too; excited to see a reply regarding the condo we are hoping to book for june's california adventure. 

i realize, contentedly, that this long awaited dream  and longing of going to the ocean is really and truly going to happen.

i make lunches and see that i really should go the store today.

i send the older ones off in a mad rush, and (guiltily) sigh when i see keith with a packet of graham crackers in his hand for his make-do breakfast.

i am touched a little while later when this little boy takes a moment at the door to turn around with a smile on his face to look up into my eyes and say, "you have a good day too, okay, mom?"


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