Stray Thoughts

It's O-Dark-Thirty and I'm awake. I can hear a clock ticking three rooms away, as well as the occasional car driving slowly by on their way to... somewhere else. It isn't me who has to be elsewhere this Saturday morning. There's no TV worth hitting the remote button for. It's not totally dark because we never let that happen inside, except for the rare uncontrollable power outage. The outlets are generously filled with the kind of night lights that only come on in the dark so we can see our path when we go somewhere. At our ages, that's possible any time of day or night. Sleep is capricious. It only takes a little light to prevent a fall, and those can be serious. I'm not saying necessarily damaging, but definitely disabling for a time, requiring proper assistance.

The furnace just came on, so in comparison the clock went silent. Light is slipping its way between the cracks in the blinds so morning is on its way. Today is supposed to stay rainy, meaning intermittent and very light, but enough to minimize chances to finalize the last garden duties for fall. More top soil needs to be added in places. The bag still sits in my car, waiting for all to come together: dry weather, a good temperature, a willing body, and the mental push to follow through and make next year's garden dreams possible. Most of the body is willing now, but I gingerly test my jaw where another tooth was just removed after an abscess requiting antibiotics. It's down to tender, but the ache and deferred pain are gone. In a few hours I can consider food, carefully.

The furnace already popped off, the ticking returns, the lap robe is tucked in, chores are delayed, and musing returns. Steve has returned to bed for more sleep. I think his early activity is what woke me, quiet as he works to be whenever I sleep. Just knowing he is there is comfort, warmth, safety. Thoughts flash briefly to the first husband, the recall that knowing he was there meant vigilance, shutting down, becoming as invisible as possible aside from being seen to perform in expected ways without disturbing whatever he was about. There was certainty about who was the single important person in that union. Now, both of us have come out of those relationships and share with each other the reassurances that they too are important, valuable, deeply loved. It takes hardly an instant of reflection to realize this is happiness, this is love. All these years later, this comes with gratitude. All those years of not being enough, not being right enough, not being OK, yield appreciation for what is. Now, here in the dark and peace, the recognition of joy reigns.

Raindrops begin hitting the roof, making a soft duet with the clock. It's time to tuck the lap robe in around a couple missed corners and close the machine.