Surely my eyes deceived me. Glancing at my bedside clock, I initially mistook the time for five minutes before six. No, it could not be. My husband left the house hours ago. The garage door groaned as its lift woke me, and it was light outside. Picking up my watch, I checked in disbelief. Not five before six, but half past eleven! Even though I am not a morning person, this was half past Tuesday, and most of my day was spent in dream-filled slumber.
Embarrassed, a few minutes later when the phone rang, I admitted to Jerry that, yes, I was up, but when he pulled in for a coffee with me at 11:45, the whole story came out about the few moments that had transpired in my day before he arrived. We laughed. Quite unusual for me, though retired, I still like to get a good start on the day, especially today.
Today, Tuesday, is the beginning of my three-day writing spree. I reserve these days for creativity. Yesterday, Monday, I laundered clothes, sheets, and towels, stretched sourdough, swept and mopped the front porch, and cut up produce to add to a roast. So, today I panicked as it struck me that half of my precious creative Tuesday was spent comatose.
Then, lingering over coffee, I read some lines from a thoughtful poet. I clicked to hear a recording of her reading her own words, hoping to gain a deeper understanding of her message. She read deliberately and then explained her inspiration and interpretation, in answer to the proddings of a podcaster. Her insights about a moment in her day were profound.
I was stirred into contemplation. My waking at eleven now has my thoughts wandering to and fro. Was this late waking to stimulate this moment of wondering? Was this a mirror to reflect on how, not just today, but in all of life, don’t we all, in our understanding, wisdom, relationships, and awareness, wake up after eleven?
Embarrassed, a few minutes later when the phone rang, I admitted to Jerry that, yes, I was up, but when he pulled in for a coffee with me at 11:45, the whole story came out about the few moments that had transpired in my day before he arrived. We laughed. Quite unusual for me, though retired, I still like to get a good start on the day, especially today.
Today, Tuesday, is the beginning of my three-day writing spree. I reserve these days for creativity. Yesterday, Monday, I laundered clothes, sheets, and towels, stretched sourdough, swept and mopped the front porch, and cut up produce to add to a roast. So, today I panicked as it struck me that half of my precious creative Tuesday was spent comatose.
Then, lingering over coffee, I read some lines from a thoughtful poet. I clicked to hear a recording of her reading her own words, hoping to gain a deeper understanding of her message. She read deliberately and then explained her inspiration and interpretation, in answer to the proddings of a podcaster. Her insights about a moment in her day were profound.
I was stirred into contemplation. My waking at eleven now has my thoughts wandering to and fro. Was this late waking to stimulate this moment of wondering? Was this a mirror to reflect on how, not just today, but in all of life, don’t we all, in our understanding, wisdom, relationships, and awareness, wake up after eleven?
