Waking Up

This morning I got up a little later than I usually do. I tend to be an early riser and do most of my writing before noon. But today I ‘slept in’ a little.

Last night I dreamt of my daughter when she was just 3 years old and the dream seemed to evoke a sadness in me that floats freely in my life. I think about her often and am happy she’s living the life she has always dreamed of living.

And then I laid in bed listening to the birds and the garbage trucks which come every Friday morning. Brilliant sunlight flooded through the window and for July the air has a little coolness to it, which is wonderful. I hear my neighbor with his various gadgets and his inevitable shouting at this lab to stop this or that.

Gentle pain flooded my legs … a consequence of a herniated disk my doctor tells me. I really need to attend to my exercises to reduce the pain and that’s a bit of a drag.

I couldn’t wait to make my morning cup of coffee. I have a new Chemex coffee maker, which I love. And then I make my standard breakfast; one fried egg placed on a single piece of toast lightly buttered. Sometimes I have a link of vegetarian sausage. I think I’ll have that this morning.

But before breakfast, I peruse the news on my laptop. I read some of the NY Times. I Checked out Fb and felt a slight wave of unhappiness sweep over me. As usual I checked out macupdate.com and philly.com and read one sports story about the Phillies that wasn’t especially interesting.

I thought about what I need to attend to today. The big event is contacting my very elderly mother and arranging to pick her up and drive her to her social security office in West Philadelphia. She discarded her Medicare card and I need to get her a new one. It’s a very large production and one that I dread doing.

I’ve noticed just how uncomfortable I’ve become to leave my very local environs. This is where I write and read. I avoid using the car and walk and bike almost everywhere. The phone rarely rings and how I love that.

I look forward to listening to some Mahler, Hayden, and Brahms and that makes my spirit soar.

This is just a little slice of the one life. It turns out to be the only life. The mind loves to glory over the appearance of infinite choice, but then we see that life works out just the way it does we see that it could have been no different from what it is.

Even with the soft pain and the gentle melancholy, how grateful, appreciative I am for it all …

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