Waiting For A View

Each morning I get to see a different view of this scene – sometimes quite hot and droopy, sometimes gilded with dawn, and sometimes as this morning shrouded in a mist that is whisked away almost as soon as it arrives.

Sept MistFor a time I was within the mist, the cooling touch of it on my skin. I glanced back to ensure the dogs weren’t getting lost. There were early shots fired in the adjoining land at the ever-present dove so I didn’t want them mistaken for predators. But they stayed near, still sleepy and wanting more to be home than out in the field.

Fog Deck

The thick ribbon of fog was moving like a living thing on the eddies of wind and heat. The sun rose higher, burning it to a tissue-thin veil over the world. It is, admittedly, a better view – the world with a soft focus lens over all.

I ought to be doing any number of things since Sarge is working much of the weekend. But I’ve no heart for any of it. I woke with a throbbing headache – apnea, I know, since it also woke me at the magical 3am…the literal middle of the night. I was still half dreaming, swimming through a mental fog to a place where I knew I had to breathe – slow, deep, fill the lungs and then the blood and then the brain. Slow, girl, because this is why you feel so stupid these days…this is why you can’t remember things…why you are exhausted even on rising…slowly breathe that life back into yourself and then down, down again into that dreamland.

I suppose it is why everything is wrack and ruin…so damned tired all the time with everything seeming insurmountable. I do try – things picked up and put in their place here – an effort is made. But never enough. And this, spending what time and brain I have here, does not help that problem. I suppose I could triage the place – decide what is most important. But for now…the quiet is enticing and the thought of more sleep beckons like a mermaid on the shore. Come, there is no drowning, no desperate fight for breath and life. Just that enveloping embrace…salty like tears, spinning like a leaf in autumn to the depths, slowly drifting without knowing that this was always the plan. This was always how it was supposed to be.



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