She sat, not quite sure what to do with her hands. They should be filled with something, something useful, purposeful. Instead, they reached again for her pack of cigarettes, quickly becoming empty, as no other call had reached her this overcast, chilly morning.
The rising up feeling had been a constant, but no matter how intently she listened, the voice, the muse, would not visit. Perhaps the neediness in her kept it at bay. Perhaps it called to her only for her ability to feel it rather than act on it.
The wind picked up a bit, sending the wind chimes into their spontaneous song. How out of place they seemed, framed by such a grey landscape. It was really too cold to sit on the porch. Her sweater hugged to her, she had to wrap her buffalo plaid blanket a bit tighter around her legs to keep out the damp air. The dampness was no good for her bones; she knew this. The alternative was to wander the house, with all its rooms full of stimulation: books, music, pictures, movies. She yearned for stimulation, but not of that solitary kind. Someone to talk to, someone to inspire. The telephone sat next to her, and though she tried, she couldn't think of a soul to call who would understand what she was trying to say. Small talk wouldn't do. This was not a small talk moment for her, but trying to define what kind of moment it was seemed beyond her.
The dogs were barking at the farm next door. She wondered if there was a new addition. Each one was a stray, or rescued from a shelter, cared for by the eccentric old lady who lived there, loved and pampered, a regular old canine foster family. Last night, the screams that reached her window conjured images of a scared rabbit, taking a short cut through the fence, in the jaws of one of the larger dogs. Do the small ones find their worth in grasping for the leftovers?
****
What a morning. It's been a good morning, though a bit...melancholy? Pain levels are high, and I'm again left without a companion for the day. My housekeeper has had to take some time off, and the service could not be reached to get a temporary replacement. I guess I need to re-evaluate those days when I wished she'd just get her stuff done and go home, leave me in my solitude. Solitude is something I love when I want it, but when it's beyond my control (control...there's that word again), I'm not so crazy about it.
*sigh*
Till later....
The rising up feeling had been a constant, but no matter how intently she listened, the voice, the muse, would not visit. Perhaps the neediness in her kept it at bay. Perhaps it called to her only for her ability to feel it rather than act on it.
The wind picked up a bit, sending the wind chimes into their spontaneous song. How out of place they seemed, framed by such a grey landscape. It was really too cold to sit on the porch. Her sweater hugged to her, she had to wrap her buffalo plaid blanket a bit tighter around her legs to keep out the damp air. The dampness was no good for her bones; she knew this. The alternative was to wander the house, with all its rooms full of stimulation: books, music, pictures, movies. She yearned for stimulation, but not of that solitary kind. Someone to talk to, someone to inspire. The telephone sat next to her, and though she tried, she couldn't think of a soul to call who would understand what she was trying to say. Small talk wouldn't do. This was not a small talk moment for her, but trying to define what kind of moment it was seemed beyond her.
The dogs were barking at the farm next door. She wondered if there was a new addition. Each one was a stray, or rescued from a shelter, cared for by the eccentric old lady who lived there, loved and pampered, a regular old canine foster family. Last night, the screams that reached her window conjured images of a scared rabbit, taking a short cut through the fence, in the jaws of one of the larger dogs. Do the small ones find their worth in grasping for the leftovers?
****
What a morning. It's been a good morning, though a bit...melancholy? Pain levels are high, and I'm again left without a companion for the day. My housekeeper has had to take some time off, and the service could not be reached to get a temporary replacement. I guess I need to re-evaluate those days when I wished she'd just get her stuff done and go home, leave me in my solitude. Solitude is something I love when I want it, but when it's beyond my control (control...there's that word again), I'm not so crazy about it.
*sigh*
Till later....
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