I'm a morning person anyway so I've got more focus and energy then to concentrate on important things.
Plus Hemingway wrote in the mornings and it worked for him, so I figure it'd work for me so before the sun rises, I sit in the kitchen chair, pen in one hand and steaming coffee in the other.
Candles are lit offering soft flickers of Hope in the darkness.
Prayerfully, I exhale, chasing thoughts away before focusing on my wife for a moment.
Specifically, I'm wondering exactly what it is I love about her at the moment.
There's a great deal to be thankful for, I'd literally be dead without her, but I'm not thinking about the constant, draining caregiving she provides to her cancer stricken hubby; her agile focus on the ever changing demands of a 5, 15, 17, and 20 year old daughter; the burdens of managing the needs of 49 Developmentally Disabled patients daily; her commitment to running, yoga and staying fit with a schedule that doesn't allow consistency or time; her enrollment as a Nursing student carrying a full load; her enrollment as a Nursing student carrying a full load; or how frustrated she is because I interrupt her a thousand times each day.
I'm incredibly thankful for these things but I'm not focusing on them.
I'm asking myself what, exactly, do I love about her at this moment in time?
On a small, mostly square shape I've cut out of paper I stole from Sarah's workspace, I write the words, "I Love you because," then I close my eyes and wait for the answer.
Everyone's asleep as I silently see images of things she's done, said or contemplates flashing before me and something bubbles to the forefront and the pen moves as though possessed.
I'm usually smiling when the writing's finished.
Sipping the steaming coffee, I carefully place the love note in her cup, already laid out for Sarah when she wants it.
Every day I write for my audience of one.
I believe this is the most meaningful writing I've done in my life to this point.
Che calls for me and the day begins in all seriousness, if it hadn't already started without her because of side effects from my treatment.
The note disappears in the blur of activity before our daughter goes to Pre-K.
I have no idea what Sarah does with them.
Each may have been tossed in the trash as far as I know.
Sometimes she'll bring something up I wrote, needing clarification of fact over fiction as I was taught to never let the truth stand in the way of a good story and Sarah only deals in harsh realities.
Each may have been tossed in the trash as far as I know.
Mostly though, Sarah does whatever she does with them and they're not discussed.
Occasionally I still write other things, like this, but it takes a lot of energy of which I am in short supply.
The energy I do have is for Sarah, Che and Cassidy on a daily basis. If there's some extra, I may be focused enough to write for others but it's tough these days.
Besides, I don't really have anything to say other than what I've already written on the note in the coffee cup.
