I’m tired this morning, or maybe, I’m lazy, or a little of both. I had a good night’s sleep last night, but at 5 when my mind wakes up my body, I just want to stay in bed longer, praying, and then praying for a second snooze from the Sandman. It’s Sunday, we don’t need to be up, church is at 11, so I could technically sleep at least until 10, as if.
This blog calls me, my morning routine was disrupted because hubby got up before I could to let the dogs out, and so, this throws off my morning and somehow, I sit here without much to say, actually with too much to say. So much in my head that I can’t shake loose, like a tornado, with little thoughts caught up in the furor, like debris in a tornado. You see the chair as it flies in and out of the funnel, and you love that chair, you want to sit in it again, and if only you could reach close enough to snag it out of the cyclone, but you risk getting sucked in with the chair if you get too close, but the chair is so beguiling and frrroooosh you get sucked up. Yup, that’s pretty much where I am today. I’m sucked up into the funnel cloud with ideas and thoughts and feelings and I can’t pin them down.
The time now is 6:26 am. Gino has stopped to lay his head on my arm and partly on my computer, he needs a snuggle, and if I stopped this minute and hopped back into bed, Lily Belle will do her snarling at having to share the bed with Eugene again, and it will be like everything rises up off the bed for a second like we are all caught up in the darned tornado and we are suspended in mid-air, hands, feet, paws and legs all splayed out, spinning, and then we plop down into the softness of cotton, and pillows, and dogs snuggle in, cat purrs and hubby snores.
And I’ll go to my favorite place in my mind, down soft, cool, moss-covered steps into a smooth lake, with sand squishing between my toes, and the long strands of the willow tree gently caressing the water, swaying in the sunny breeze, causing tiny ripples that tickle my sides as I float. Here there is no tornado, no blog to write, no dogs to let out, nothing but peace and safety and stillness. And I’ll let the water cradle me and gently rock me back to sleep.