Words, Feelings, Stories

Sitting on my porch listening to the rain. Watching the water dance in the streetlights. İ hear the birds stirring and waking on this damp and probably dreary morning. They seem to be complaining as vigorously as the "good morning sunshine" people do. İ smell coffee brewing. Been smelling it for about a half hour now. Lovely strong and warm. İ smell it most mornings when I'm out (or have my window open) at this time. İ like to think it is from the coffee shop up on the corner. They open at 6 weekdays, i think, so maybe they start brewing early for themselves. İt could be a going to work neighbor, of course, although i don't know of any who are up and about quite so early. İt is good to sit here in the Outdoor. Too bad it's not quite warm enough to sit with bare feet on the wet wood. That connection would feel so completing. Completion is what I need to earn my rest, i believe, and it has eluded me for all this night and the day before. İ am weary of the incompleti...

He was still in the bed, but sitting up more and better. In other words, he was getting bored. Tonight, for several rare minutes, he had been alone, while voices and doors and all the sounds of a full busy household sounded around him. He watched out his extravagant window as the darkness fell, long and slow, and the mists gathered off the lake and wandered down from the treetops. Winding, whirling, dancing. He thought of the clean living smell, and wished he was out there once more. “No, you don’t,” a voice said next to his ear and he looked around but no one was there. “You aren’t here, go away,” he said crossly. “Now how can I go away if I’m not here?” “I don’t know how you’re here when you aren’t here.” “Temper, temper.” “Oh shut up!” His wife looked into the room. “Do you need something? Are you talking to me?” “No. Just – just talking, I guess.” “My silly man,” she said, came in and kissed him on the forehead and adjusted the covers around him, like he was one of ...

He was back in the bed, back in the bedroom. It wasn’t hot and steamy and there wasn’t so much noise or people coming and going. It was a pleasant place to be. And he didn’t feel bad. He was propped up on pillows, his hands folded across his chest (that was a tiny bit unnerving) He was breathing easily and nothing hurt especially. He opened his eyes. The room was filled with muted sunshine pouring through the large window facing east. Muted because the sun was overhead. He’d built in that window to watch the sunrises over the mountains and across the lake. The time and trouble he’d had installing all those panes of glass! It had been such detailed work, but he had never been sorry about the time and money spent. It was a perfect way to start the day, especially in the Dark Time that was winter. There were a couple of children playing some game on the floor. Marbles maybe. Young, still wearing baby gowns. Couldn’t tell if they were boy or girl or both. Right now he couldn’t recognize ...