It looks so bleak outside. I sat down in my office this morning with the intention of writing a wee post for you, my few, my handful of readers but the view from my window is so bleak. Nevermind the uninterrupted view of the graveyard, it's not that. It's the bare branches of every tree and the grey sky weighing down on them. It looks like it is damp and cold through the window but in reality it's warm and wet. I stay inside and pretend it's a cold winter day. Me and my hair are avoiding the humidity plus, I don't want my lungs to fill up with watery vapor. What do I look like, a catfish? Well, maybe just a little.
My friend, Beagle Lily, is a good companion for a day like today. She's Window Monitor and keeps watch of any and all activity - cars in the distance, squirrels, cardinals and cats alike. She dozes and wakes with a start if she suspects she may have missed something. The only thing that distracts her (oh, there she goes!), is the sound of breakfast being made.
Which brings me to Michael, the man with a plan. He's the only one under this roof with a daily regimen. Exercise first, run, shower, breakfast, read, paint. You can count on it. He's a living example of doing a little bit everyday and having it add up. War & Peace has taken months but he's nearly through. And the paintings? Slow going but there's always something happening. Changes, however incremental, can always be found.
I tell him he is my teacher and it's true. He is living proof that slow and steady pays off. I move forward in fits and spurts and have little to show for my sporadic efforts. I can be distracted, then intense, then exhausted. Blame it on hormones, I say. Perimenopause be damned!
We're just as different as can be, that's what it really amounts to. I'm sitting in my office with the space heater, he is in the kitchen under the whirling ceiling fan. It is the classic example of "opposites attract". We hold common values but approach the rhythms of life very differently. You have to have some common ground, for a marriage to work; you can't be wholly different, in my view. I say this because I feel wholly different from my family and have little desire to cultivate stronger bonds with them. I turn away from them but that is a different post. That is a post that I wish so badly to write about and feel I am geting closer to writing about but I've yet to summon up the courage.
I'm going to follow Michael's lead and post a little bit everyday and the courage to write more deeply, more truly will follow.
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