Nothing random about this Sunday morning

Sunday morning.

Woke up with a familiar as much as beloved guitar solo in my head. I'm pretty sure I was hearing it in my sleep. Odd. But pleasant.

Home alone, lots to do but nothing I feel obligated to do, no deadlines looming, no errands to run, no chores to attend to.
Nothing compels me, not today.

Feeling oddly relaxed, serene.

The light is wonderful today. Soft and buttery.

Summer is slowly moving on. The change is palpable, but with no consequence. The transition affects nothing. Not yet.

I sit there, gazing absentmindedly out the window. I don't want to think about anything. Don't want to ponder all that await in ambush for me around the corner, the battles I will eventually have to fight, the difficulties of the upcoming winter, the effort I'll have to expend to stand my ground. Don't want to dwell on the excess baggage I finally unloaded and the consequences of that act. I tune everything out, let my mind empty itself for once. It feels strangely nice. Comforting.

I pick up a piece of paper. Expected. Inevitable.



The quiescence surrounding me is at odds with something tugging around the edges of my subconscious.

He's being admitted to the hospital. Another surgery. Another anxiety. Agony. Is he going to make it this time?

I promise to try very hard not to compare today's calm with the quiet before the storm.