#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Trees in the morning brook

The driveway is covered in broken branches. That wind last night blew and blew. The ice is all gone, all gone, and I’m walking tired, and tireder. Everything’s tired: the grass, the old leaves, the hardwoods, the brown riverbank, the wetlands. Everything is messy, I trip over sticks and sticks, and do not fall. I am surprised to feel in such a grumbling mood. It’s almost impossible to find a photo I want to take. I settle for the rippling of the trees reflecting on the brook. I walk and try to sort out why I’m out of sorts. Is it the anniversary? The pandemic. I think back over the year and feel that’s part of it. So, I just listen to myself for a little while, and then I go in and rest. I needed some rest. After that, I join the day, wholehearted, and my energy returns. I have a webinar with the TLAN monologue course members and it goes really well, and I have the energy I didn’t think I had. Frank and I run some errands in the late afternoon, like a date, time alone, and a good, good talk. Both daughter are home, and we bring take-out and have the second night of the birthday weekend: tonight is gifts, and my daughter opens them with appreciation and delight. Tomorrow, the actual birthday. The day of her delivery, a gorgeous delivery it was on a late morning in March in Dunedin, Florida. And her brother welcomed a sister, a rival, a playmate, a friend.