No real reason, just wasn’t exactly feeling inspired I suppose. I am still reading daily and my routine and life haven’t changed much at all.
It’s wet in my part of Alabama, not raining…at the moment but the wetness from the few days we got still hasn’t abated.
I’m sat in my yard, in my favourite chair, I’ve spent a bit of time with my bare feet on the wet mushy ground, the cold wetness hugging my feet as I ‘ground’ myself. I’m listening to Redbirds chirping and the sound of an extremely distant delivery truck backing up and a dog barking half a mile away. The breeze rustles the dead leaves in the trees above me and the ferns clinging to the branches of the tree to my left, and the hairs on my arm which are stood on end because of the briskness of the air. There is a plane somewhere in the distance, an old bomber by the sounds of it, ambling its way invisibly along the horizon. My chickens have finally decided the hawks overhead are a threat, perhaps…or perhaps someone has simply laid a late afternoon egg and has shared the joy with half my flock…who knows?
It’s February, the month I lost my sweetheart, piece at a time. A year ago today we had chemo at some point, I drove him 5 days a week until the unfortunate surgery that started the torturous week and a half until his death. Can’t tell you anything we talked about, can tell you usually he was drained on way home and slept, can also tell you we often had to stop to take over a public restroom. He wasn’t eating much, if at all by this point. I was sad because it felt like he’d already checked out somewhat. He was trying but I don’t think it was himself he was trying for. I miss him, but I’m sad he went through as much as he did, if it was only on my behalf.
I digress, I am at a loss on what more to write at this time.
Best,
A
Puddle Jumping with Pandora's Box 