Sunday, January 8, 2012
When Air And Light Dance
Sunday morning, gray fog, overcast, hawk calling, roosters telling the get-up, get-up, get-up time, apple-banana-blueberry pancakes, bacon too.
Feels more like spring than winter, birds agree, chittering away, air soft and mild.
This. This. This good day.
Elvis danced his fancy two-step but none of the hens paid any attention except to move deftly away, those coy hens, those black beauties. One warm egg, already laid, one girl's work is done for this day. Now for the pleasure of scratching in the dirt, step forward, scratch, step back, examine, repeat, repeat, repeat, take what is revealed, eat.
Mr. Moon made the bed, his bed-making is far superior to mine. He fluffs and squares those pillows, he stretches the sheets tight. He is finishing up the kitchen, that man is hell on wheels when it comes to cleaning the stove. How did I get so lucky? Hold me, I'm cold, he's there.
But then again, I make him those pancakes, I make sure his glass of milk is in the freezer so it's cold and good when he drinks it. I do my best, or at least as best I can, to make him know how much I appreciate him, we are easy with each other but that does not mean we are complacent nor does it mean we take a damn thing for granted.
Sunday morning, good-morning, good morning, time to study lines. Maybe make another pot of coffee for the simple reason that I can, for the simple pleasure of holding the heat in the cup in my hands, for the simple joy of it, my cabinet is full of buy-one-get-one bags of coffee, I'll buy more before the sale is over.
Tomorrow Owen comes, I'll follow him around through the jungle as he explores, my script in my hand, it is soft as Kleenex now from being handled. I took it to Mexico and brought it back, I have a stack of these old, soft scripts in my office now. Scripts I have learned and then forgotten and what is life but a constant learning and forgetting, relearning and maybe remembering? Maybe?
Open up the doors, the sun is out and wants into the house like a curious cat, I let it, I let if flood the floors, the walls, it dances in holding hands with this soft mild air.
This good day. Oh yes.