Morning

I’m sitting here as the sun warms the dew left on the leaves causing it to drip as though there was a gentle morning rain. Instead the sky is blue and the dampness of the night is slowly moving as the mornings breeze rustles through the trees.  

After only 5 hours of restless sleep I look outside again wondering when my mind will slow down enough that I can sleep and stay that way instead of waking up and feeling so horrible every day. I know it’s the pain that wakes me up. At least now we have come far enough on this journey that the sky is already bright before my eyes decide to open and the birds and the sounds of the forest keep me company while I wait on the rest of the world to join me. 

There are so many things I should be doing right now. Like cleaning the windows, washing the floor, only I know if I do these things my body will protest and the pain will torment me the rest of the day. At some point I am going to have to bite the bullet and just do some of these things, even if I can only finish a small amount each day.  

I hear the blades of a helicopter chopping through the air in the distance. I wonder if more fires have started, if it is just doing reconnaissance from last night or if it’s someone private watching the sunrise from a seat in the sky. 

I think about how much my life has changed. Not all that long ago I would have gotten up and made breakfast, cleaned up the house and worked out in the garden. I would have walked the dogs and enjoyed the dew on the hay making my ankles moist as we walked through the fields.

Now I have no energy and I struggle to accept that I am unable to do so many of the things I used to enjoy. It’s odd how you don’t realize that something as simple as washing the floor can be so draining for someone who is hurting.

I was thinking while outside barefoot this morning standing in the uncut grass about my cousin and wondering how you can move away from a town and leave your child buried in the ground so many miles away. In a lot of ways I feel as though I adopted him over the last few years. Finding solace sitting on his grave and talking to him the way I couldn’t when he was alive because I was a kid and he was a teen. I wonder if he was alive now if we would still have our talks, would he let the Shepherd’s hook and the Light guide him the way it does now?

So many things bounce about my head when I am left alone with my thoughts. I wonder how I manage to tame them long enough to get any of it out onto paper, into a dialect with a loved one or even over the phone where my thoughts are more responsive and not as thought out. 

For now, I am going to attempt to start this day and get something accomplished around the house. Even if it’s small and only I know it was done.