Common cold

Words have been few, and steps have been few, and sleep has been spotty, but of coughs I have plenty. Hoping the end of this cold is in sight. 

Excuse me. It’s my lunch break and I’mahafta lie down a bit. 


A dash of a morning

A smidgen startled by the alarm, a speck under the weather, a wisp of a sore throat, a touch of cinnamon and cayenne in my coffee, a mite tired on the road, a hint of sunrise color in the sky, a sliver of a moon overhead, a small herd of cows resting beside Route 155, a tad sunblinded crossing the Hatem bridge, a bit of traffic along the way, a little wistful for those I miss. 

flotsam, there is something wrong with me

A knock at the door?

The dream ends abruptly.  The knock is clear, crisp. It doesn’t repeat though I am still, listening. 

The dream is gone. Work? Something else? Nope, nothing, gone. Only the knock. 

Still listening. Was it real? Could I have dreamed it? 

It didn’t signal arrival, but it was perfectly incorporated. That’s all I can recall now. 

Straining, no unfamiliar sounds inside or out. 

4am. I get up. No signs of life out front. It seemed too loud, too close for that door, on second thought, though I couldn’t not have checked it. I ponder the other doors, and the sound. It was crisp. Knuckles on glass? I don’t want to check the other doors. No broken glass sounds followed, certainly. On wood I decide, an indoor sound. 

A dream, then? Who would break in and then knock?

Unsettled. Too early for sunrise. Yesterday’s was unendingly beautiful, accompanied by a nearly full moon still high in the sky, dancing with the clouds.

And with that thought, I think I’ll retry sleep. 

Revisited: at 6:30am there was also not really someone ringing the doorbell. 


Morning mercies 

Dry morning means shorter dry-time for my hair means out the door that much earlier means still lovely color in the sky as I leave means the sun first glowing then blinding when the road is East rather than North (or in one brief and strange section, South). 

Dry morning does not mean dry night, my car wet with dew, laden in moisture, reminding me that there are days – days past, days to come (God willing) – when morning will be cold and the car will need scraping in these early departure hours when I feel most rushed. Thankful for spring-into-summer, for warmth, for light, for wipers that work. For mercies great and small. 

 Slow realization on arrival that if it’s Wilmington it’s Thursday and if it’s Thursday it’s a week to house guests and happy reunions. One more reason to smile through this day. 



Good Monday to you 

I wake up with 90 minutes until my alarm, from dreams that so occupy my mind that I’m not sure whether I really want to go back to sleep. Unclear whether I really do or don’t; I’m still engaged in that thread when the alarm goes off. 

Up, then, to do all the things of an office day.  

Then out; Waze somewhat less smart than Google about reevaluating where I am to start, though generally better at avoiding traffic. Not that there is any, at this hour. 

The sky is various shades of blue, brush strokes visible in the clouds. I’ve all but missed the sunrise, only a single glimpse, a bit later– near the horizon, a single residual patch of neon pink. 

I didn’t know last week I would have seen my last sunrise drive, at least for a while, perhaps a month or even two, until the days shorten again. 

It’s hard to say how long; the days will go on lengthening for a few weeks, anyway…. in the winter there’s quite a stretch when I miss the sunrise at the other end, when the entire drive occurs at night and I am already at work by the time it comes. 

As I leave 40, up 222 and back to 95, I pass a bobtail headed toward 40.  Straight on I can’t be sure, but as we pass I see the familiar markings… as always, good thoughts and glad tidings to dear friends now afar. 

And on that note… have a good day!


Breadcrumbs are fattening

Chatting with a friend I hadn’t talked to in years… it’s funny what changes and what doesn’t. I’m not dating, and that troubles her even though it doesn’t faze me in the slightest. She isn’t just at present, but there is some guy she’s recently broken up with and not yet over. And he’s breadcrumbing her, though she doesn’t know the term or recognize the behavior until I mention it. Continue reading “Breadcrumbs are fattening”


I watch the skies

My commute recaps always describe the changing skies. I can’t help myself, I am so often looking up

“What’s you favorite color?” the girls would ask me when they were little. “I don’t have one,” I would reply. 

Maybe because the sky is every color. 

My trip through the Canadian Rockies is still one of my favorites, so much breathtaking beauty, but it was pouring in Vancouver, and then as we headed east the high, high mountains make their own weather, and I never saw the sky for clouds, until we reached the plains on the other side. 

I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it, until I spent my day exploring Calgary in sunlight, then retreated to the hotel, with its view overlooking the city and mountains in the distance. I watched every moment of the fading day, the sunset and the appearance of stars avidly. Like I’d been starved for them despite so much else that had been beautiful.  

I look up. 

So I suppose it suits that my next planned adventure will take me to Iceland for the northern lights. Northern nights. I will hope for clear skies and amazing views and at least one great picture to keep.