Imbolc and the New Moon dark sky
Thursday gratefuls: Pulmonologists. Kate. Her wheelchair. Taryle. Awkward conversations. The Psalms. The class. The House impeachment managers. Their videos. Vaccines. Covid. Hawai’i. Joe, Seoah, Murdoch. All of you, each of you, who read this.
Sparks of joy: Rigel prancing in from the outside. At 12+. The night sky on my way to pick up the paper. Text advancing in Jennie’s Dead. Tom’s found quote: “I have the same religion as that tree.” Serj Tankian.
And yet. I cannot keep from singing, as life flows on in endless song. Hard times are still times in which we live. A hard life is still life. Prancing Rigel’s, that night sky with Leo and Draco and Orion and Canis Major, the rising sun, the coming cold and snow, vaccines on the way (I think.), 45 gone and, not a little thing, gone to Florida where he would make a great Carl Hiaasen character. The Lodgepoles on Black Mountain. The water running in Maxwell Creek. Life flows on.
Ruth will probably complete her freshman year of high school from home. Two homes actually, Jon and Jen’s. Gabe is back in classes with the kids who don’t do well online. Jon’s taking time to work on his house. Joe works with the Philippines for the USAF. Seaoh and Murdoch have Oahu as a place to play. Kate seems to be feeling better, a bit.
Leigh Thompson, our new primary care provider, is young, seems competent. Covid has called out the best in us, the worst in us. Babies are still being born. People are still falling love. Valentine’s day is on its way.
I go to sleep each night with a smile and a sense of well-being, a sense of expectancy about the next day. Yes. life is hard, but it’s not impossible. There are still things to learn, people to greet, sunrises and sunsets.
Endless song. Yes.