When I woke up this morning I tried to remember where we needed to be. Blissfully, nowhere. This week has been a hullabaloo of sights, sounds and packed lunches. So I made my tea (broken kettle means a reason to trip along to the thrift store with bags of donations and just a little check to see if there is a stray kettle) and settled in to read blog posts. How do I always forget to make breakfast? Lucky for me there are defrosted pastry sheets and honey and rhubarb stewed in the fridge, plunk in oven. Phew.
The birds. The birds are beautiful in the spring. After only the twittering of hardy chickadees and hateful crows all winter I find myself hanging out by the diningroom windows to hear snatches of song before my home fills with the random sounds of childhood. The beat boxing, foot thumping rhythm that provides our baseline.
Retreating to the living room where, whoops, I left a project going. Remember how I was going to wake up after laying down with the baby? Yeah, that never happens but I can never admit it. Baby toddles after. Ready for his morning nurse. Wondering what that funny feeling is a look down to see he has a pen and is drawing all over my chest while nursing. Scribbling over the mosquito bites, my prize from last night’s dinner in the garden.
Checking my emails in the morning has always been akin to the physical act of opening the mailbox. The moment before your stomach drops or your heart leaps. For years I wrote letters and zines, had pen pals all over the world,now that seems to have fallen to only emails. Which I will just have to live with till early mornings and late evenings are granted to me again, when sleep isn’t job number one. Getting back to the emails. I always imagine someone I knew long ago may have had an inkling in the night (or day) to seek me out, reconnect or there is great news one click away. As you can imagine, this isn’t the case most mornings, but a girl can dream can’t she?
Speaking of dreaming. I have started doing that again. I am taking that as a sign that a full sleep cycle is once again in sight because for these last 16 months I haven’t been dreaming. I will spare you the boring content of these dreams.
Moving along. There are dishes to wash, maths to tackle and socks to cast off today.
I knew I wouldn’t do morning pages any other way than this. Do any of you write them?