Barns, Route 22

I woke up early, and Herman, my scary voice in the night was sitting at the edge of the bed. He had health and aging issues, worried about the news, politics, the divorce, a storm moving up from the Southeast, money issues. I suggested he take a cruise and got up.  I am starving him.

I decided to build my day differently. To tell my story differently.

I fed Buddy, my fish.

I lay on the floor with Frieda in the dark, and we communed.

I cuddled with Lenore, and went outside to feed the donkeys.

I made breakfast for Maria. I took a photo. We talked about the day. About a spiritual life.

A quiet and loving day filled with ideas, images, nature, animals, friends, conversation.

We will meditate. Stop and buy a book. Stop and buy some fruit.

Take a walk. Play Chess.

Listen to music.

Read a book of short stories. Talk to my daughter about a wonderful piece she wrote for Baseball Prospectus.

I will put aside anger, fear, the stories of struggle and lament. I already have. We will clean out the barn.

Visit the donkeys. Pick up the art that is left from Gallery 99. Meditate again.

Maybe go out to dinner. Maybe not.

I am learning to build my days differently, and they are good.