December 20, 2018 11:13 am
Time has a tricky way of sneaking away on me when I’m not careful. It’s not a bad thing if I’m sidetracked by something useful. I was – looking up my nephew’s YouTube video of how to cook a delicious turkey in a short time.
Where did the day go? I am tired and there’s Sheba to walk yet. The day is good. Got lots done even though I was sidetracked by YouTube. First it was the turkey. Then there was Bernina sewing videos but they’re good and useful. I have a few minutes here to breathe and tap. The chocolate chip cookies are done. We’re waiting for the doggy biscuits to come out of the oven. Maybe another 15 minutes or so.
December 22, 2018 11:09 am
Sheba and I have been on a walk or two since I’ve been here. When I leave, it is difficult to come back unless I make a point of it. So here I am, cleaned, relaxed and warmed by my morning swim. Wanting to get there was not an easy, natural thing. The morning was dark and uninviting. I headed out with reluctance and trepidations. But I had the memory of the peaceful blue of the pool, the ropes of the lanes buoying gently in the warm soothing water. I felt the aches of my stiff unyieldy body. I could see myself wading in and gliding off in its warmth.
It was no surprise that I was the only one there this morning. I felt good that I showed up. The lifeguard was a lanky youth, his first day on the job, he said. I hoped I gave him a sense of purpose. He wasn’t guarding just an empty pool. I was a potential someone to be rescued. I used to feel uncomfortable to be the only swimmer, that I was taking up someone’s time. Now I enjoy the idea that the pool was just for me.
Murky thoughts crept into my mind as I went up and down the lanes. I was there working out while the rest of the world was busy with their lives, family, friends making ready for all the happiness of Christmas. Thoughts of being a loser floated in as I blew bubbles in the water and raising my face to take a breath. Never mind that I’ve never enjoyed all the frenzies of shopping for perfect gifts and all the obligations of being loudly happy and comfortable in the traditions not of my culture.
It is the evening of the day and I’m feeling its melancholia. I tell myself it’s a fake mood like fake news. It’s not real. It’s my brain malfunctioning. It’s not my fault. It is the time of the day when my body is winding down to ready for bedtime. Goodnight to one and all. Tomorrow is a new day.