We buried a mother, a daughter, a friend yesterday, Sky Jones Lewey. Figuratively and literally.

Here we are. A new day. The sun lit the morning clouds in a spectacular fashion. That’s done. The day is started. Not much on the agenda. Plans are in hand for the trip to Uvalde tomorrow for the funeral of our friend, Sky.

Another friend has ceased to be. Now, rather than drive to a birthday party in Houston this weekend, I’ll drive to a funeral in Uvalde.

I enjoy watching the slow progression of life across my land. Yesterday I stood on the porch, leaning against a cedar pole, and looked at the flame leaf sumac with all the new sprouts popping up. I felt good.

Watched the lunar eclipse last night. Shared the experience with a friend via text and my son who came out on the porch just as the eclipse hit totality. It’s nice having people in your life with whom you can share the beauty of an eclipse.

I had a dream last night. It featured my wife. It was a short. She showed up at an event of an indeterminate nature. I asked how in the world she got there, since I thought she was in a memory care facility.

I got a call yesterday. It was Matt from Strait Music. A guitar I wanted to check out had arrived. I’d forgotten all about it. Because the interest in the guitar was expressed in September of 2020.

I’m going to talk about the pattern I’ve seen as I dealt with my wife’s death in August 2020 and how it came about. This isn’t a road map. This is my journey.

Life is full of patterns that are self-similar across different scales.

I did it again, found another memory cloud. This one was on purpose. I was killing time yesterday in preparation for my granddaughter’s area track meet.

I ran into a memory cloud yesterday. There was a brief pang of loss followed by a small pulse of tears.

I’m away from home. I miss my home. Why? The routine. I get up in the morning. I fix my coffee. I feed the cats. I write. I eat breakfast. I tour the yard and then the day starts. When I’m away from home I have to run my routine in the empty spaces of my hosts lives.

Last year, on a trip to Marathon, I got a ticket for going too fast in a school zone. I took defensive driving.  I learned something doing it.

Sore muscles and a satisfied mind seem to be the combination.

The story ends better than it starts.

I confess. It felt good toiling in the yard once again.

I had a good day yesterday. I wrote a song. I was noodling around with my new chord and a piece of a tune popped into my head along with some nonsense words.

I fell to earth yesterday. My three good days took a hit. It happened in the afternoon. I was looking at social media and realized I’d missed a Monday evening event to which I was invited.

Went into the hills of Austin last night to hear music.

Big day ahead. I’m getting a new kitchen appliance. A dishwasher. Wow. What excitement. No. Seriously, what excitement.