+[rich awareness]+

We sleep with the windows pushed open at night.  Late last night my ears noticed the fountain still trickling on the back porch near the firepit.  In the darkness it sang backup to the wind in the pines, providing just the two part harmony which awakens a typically-never-aroused portion of my brain.  It reminded me of sitting there hours before as the afternoon passed the torch to evening.  My heart overjoyed, I had paused there after walking parchment dry trails.

Peyton clambered up the stairs and into our room early to alert Doug that the dogs head was bleeding again.  What to do?  Kind and helpful words spilled forth.  I know not what the words instructed, but their cadence is one I know well.  He is kind.  He reached for me as he had in the night and comfort lulled me into sleep once more.

Dawn broke and everything glowed.  I arose to snake my hair into that gypsy braid thing Ive been donning thanks to some random youtube tutorial.  My bathroom smelled of the eucalyptus and spearmint oils Ive been using on my much too wintered feet.  The travertine cold beneath me combined with the breeze from the windows hinted that the temps were still below my comfort level.   I cleaned the countertop Id littered with my bobbypins, brushes and bottles,  picked last seasons cherry tie-dye dress and a vintage sweater for comfort, then packed my bag for Sabbath.

No kisses goodbye for my children.  Still sleeping they know exactly where I will be when they awaken.  Doug drove me to my coffee shop which overlooks the mountains. Piping hot coffee in hand, with enough heavy cream to consider it the color of the nutbrown hare in Savannahs toddler storybooks, a memory is rekindled of how he used to toss her into the air.  I recall squealing for him to be careful.  I settle in my window.

The barista here talks to everyone... about everything.  More words than I will have in a week.  I admire his conversational tenacity.  But I put in my earbuds and tune my Pandora to David Tolk.  I sit always in the same corner at the bar looking mountainward.  The sun stretches across the pavement toward the glass behind which I sit, but never quite lengthens its fingers to touch me.  So sometimes I walk outside and meet it half way.

I pray and read then begin to write.  Full gestation of thoughts has occurred and now I must, am compelled, to peck them to life.

I have not greeted anyone today, nor had any meaningful conversations, merely have repeated some of Davids words in prayer, outloud.

Leaves are budding on the branches outside the window.  Grass is beginning to cut green through its brown hedge of the color wheel and swap sleep for dancing.    Today the clouds slice slow moving boats in the sky and drift effortlessly through the expanse of Colorado blue.  Its a distinct color, you know.   I admire the words I read today in a book Im enjoying.  I vow to express myself so fully as the author.  Words impact, chip away, wipe the smudges of our minds, would you agree?  Suddenly I long for intelligent conversation.

I watched as a 20 something pulled up to meet her husband for coffee.  Their kiss lingered long enough to make me look away.  He twirled her as if in dance while her smile crept across only one side of her face... as if she had a secret.  They drove away together, new rings shining.  I was happy for them.

A motorcycle hums past and I am once again reminded that I, bedazzled in raven fringe chaps, want to be whisked away by Doug.   Mostly, I think,  because I cant figure out where else I would wear such.  I have tested this thought many times and it loses all interest when I eliminate those wind slapping chaps.

I am in no hurry today.  I sing. I pray. I listen.  I watch.

In all this time I have contributed nothing.  Done nothing.  And yet my surroundings have had my full attention.




The world is no richer for anything I have done today, but I am richer for having stopped to notice beauty in the water, the wind, the comfort of my husbands arms, the pungent smells of essential oils, the fun and frivolity of adorning.  Im richer for seeing colors and examining thoughts, for admiring new love and remembering my ornamental side.  I am richer for taking time to think about where I am heading and if I will indeed like where I arrive.