Friday, March 2, 2012

Five o'clock Friday

Vacuuming done, house quiet, sit down to check email and facebook for word from friends. Begin a breath. Notice how your soft body gently expands, then deflates. Notice how the cat on your slouched chest has a soft, gently expanding, inflating body too. How she kneads and purrs. How flavorful the spiced wine, the last remaining from Christmas.

I walked this morning in bright sunshine, crisp air. Now the sun is setting without a flare, brightness fully hidden by clouds, and a drizzle falls. I could feel gray, too, but there is this cat and this wine. Every minute, every breath a new beginning, and most of these new beginnings-- begin again, begin again--most new beginnings are ordinary and pleasant and not made because trauma upended my world.

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