Busy Day
The other evening, on the first day of the most recent cold snap, the day of our wintery mix, I woke, as I often do, in the middle of the night. I looked out my windows at the pasture, and at first glance, I thought there was new fallen snow. Then I focused. It was moonlight. The moon was still near enough full to cast light. I’d liked the trick because I knew the sky was clear and the stars bright. I went outside to look at them.
It’s the same tonight. On the ride home from listening to music, the waning moon hung in the sky, low to the horizon. It was orange, but I knew soon enough it would be white and high in the sky. I didn’t stay up to look at it. I went to bed. Once again, I woke. Early. Once again, the sky was clear and the pasture moderately well lit. The cats were in their kennels. It was cold still and it will be cold again tonight. If I’m out in it, it will be only a brief visit to check the cats perhaps, or just walk about and look.
Today is planless. Theoretically, I have nothing to do. My guess is I will find things to occupy my time. Most likely I will straighten the house, pick up the odds and ends I leave lying around as is my want. I’ll put a little water in the fresh cut flowers I have decided to keep in a vase on the sideboard in the kitchen. After cleaning the house, I’ll clean my soul. I’ll take a walk through the park and into town. I’ll play my guitar. Read a book. Think of things to write. Formulate ideas. Fortify myself. All the things one does, can do, alone. Solitary things. The time for self-repair.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale