I awake to a silent house. No sounds of coffee being made or of dog being fed. Unfolding my right arm from its cramping bent position, I realize it’s Monday and he has gone to buy the paper because the local doesn’t deliver on Mondays.
Looking up I see my face in the portrait hanging on the bedroom wall as it surely must be, since it wouldn’t be appropriate to hang it elsewhere. I see my forty year old self; solemn, staring directly at the artist, dark hair piled on my head, where today there remains but a grey remembrance.
I am wearing the lapis ring my daughter reminded me that she took from me when she left home, but she would have had it anyway. Four of the small turquoise bracelets I bought from The Shop of the Rainbow Man in Santa Fe, New Mexico are on my wrist. Do I still have that small gold pin? I don’t remember.
For some reason, I remember these shoes. Possibly because I coveted them, then and bought them for my 36th birthday for the astronomical price of $36.00. I loved them so much I wore them out. Chanel has brought them back now; for the astronomical price of $800. It shows that what goes around comes back around.
The sun is just beginning to wake also, and a few tiny dots of sunlight sprinkle themselves at the bottom of the picture, filtered through the lace on the bottom of the curtains. Why do I keep those curtains? They are no longer to my taste, but they go with the antique bed I suppose. I used to be able to climb on the bed to take them down to wash, but either the bed or my legs are too wobbly now to attempt it, so they hang quietly from their rods waiting for someone else to do it.
So much changes in our lives doesn’t it? We are obliged to go with the flow or get run over. Every day holds promise, and though it isn’t the promise of the past, we adapt. The Khan Academy slogan is “You only have to know one thing; you can learn anything.”
He has returned with the newspaper, and brings me a latte while we get ready to learn everything.
Good morning sunshine.