“Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.
Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.
Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgivable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.
― Raymond Carver
I wake up with the sound of rain. Unusual here, and welcome in my half sleep state. I put on the same pair of soft pants as I wore the night before and boil water for coffee. The dog waits eagerly for his food, which I stir on the counter.
I take my turmeric, drop cbd oil onto my tongue, and pour oat milk into the mug.
We are not talking much today, as of yesterday’s argument over a few scattered resentments. I slept alone in the bed.
I bring coffee to his work desk out of habit. Maybe out of the weariness of holding onto stubborn silence. I’m tired.
An old lover once told me that I live like I have lived a long life. This stuck with me, and echoes when I least expect or welcome it.
I have let others perceptions shape my identity, and looking back like the rings of a tree, I can see where my inner drive seemed to gain control, or weathered a storm, or made a dramatic shift in perspective. These are painful , as is anything to look back on perhaps.
I live deeply, and I want. it that way. I notice the leaves tapping the window by the bed. I strive to choose words with care. I drive the streets that carry the mountain views. I cry often. I kiss the dog’s head with fullness. I make love with abandon, if I am seen and felt.
Maybe all of this is just to say that we are all children, unfinished and unsure but observant. It’s enough for now.