Sarah remains snuggled under blankets, enjoying the leisure of a morning in a quiet house. Her children are gone so there are no demands being made, no breakfast to cook or schedules to manage.
Goddess lays on the floor at the foot of the bed watching over her, ever protectant, all loving, intently watching me each time I walk past the door to check on my wife.
In spite of the cold, a bird sings a solo from a tree in the backyard in protest of winter's refusal to leave early.
I sit at the table watching the ocean breeze blow the branches from the Palm Trees and they appear to beckon Saviors to arrive, though the street remains empty Yet they continue to wave hopefully.
Trance like, I see all of this but I may as well be looking a million miles away as the things around me come into focus only to grow watery again as I see things off in the distance. It feels very much like prayer though I am not thinking of God or Jesus, Saints or prophets or anything holy.
"This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it," said whoever wrote it all those years ago.
I don't much feel like rejoicing through I'm pretty glad this day has arrived. I wish it were a warmer day but at least its sunny and bright. I'll take it. It's all I've got anyway.
Perhaps I'll rejoice later.
For the moment, I'm as content as everyone else in the house seems to be, with a bird singing outside and flowers blooming in spite of the cold, staring off in the watery distance of a future being made.
