Perhaps it is just in the day.  It is cloudy and drizzly.  Now I have the time I crave, time that I have been wishing for, to do so many things.  But I can’t seem to move forward, cannot find what it is that I wish to do.  It is not that I’m restless,  for I feel a sense of inertia, and yet a sense of discomfort…of things left unsaid and undone.  And so here I sit.  Maybe the words will come to me.  Maybe the voice will come and tell me what it is that I want to do, what it is that I want to say.

The other day, I went to my friend’s mother’s funeral.  It seemed  as we age, the more funerals there are.  I cannot say that it was sad,  for she was 83, lived a good life and was suffering bad health the last year.  It is good that she is freed from all that.  I am happy that she is in heaven, among the stars, along with her John.

I remembered her kindness, her contributions to the community.  She was always happy to see me and welcomed me in her home.  One time I was visiting and she polished my shoes for church, along with her family’s.  Another time, she climbed the rickety stairs of my boarding house to give me a pair of lamps as wedding presents for my ill-fated marriage an eon ago.  She called herself my other mother.

Now, I think I can go on with my day.