Why am I writing this? I should be doing my morning pages. I was thinking about that word. Morning. Mourning. One of my dearest friends is going through something, mourning. I am mourning. It's a strange process that takes everyone differently, I think I've avoided the pages because that's where I can write anything, and I don't know if I want to. But I do know that I need to. Guess I better get to it then.
Monday, July 26, 2010
It is early. It is Monday. I've been trying to be sure and be up and at 'em around 6am every morning Mon-Thur. I like to have quiet mornings to myself. With a husband on the night shift you'd think that would be easy. But unless I am up at 6 or during school sometimes 5, it isn't possible. It's been great to go out and spend sometime weeding and mowing a little bit everyday. Sometimes I remember and take the radio out with me and listen to Morning Edition on NPR. I'll be heading out there in a few minutes. The sun has turned the clouds on the horizon gold, I can see them through the trees in my neighbor's back yard. The birds will be singing, the crickets will be scattering, mornings are magic to me. It's not something I think I could share with anyone, and I know I enjoy it best when I'm alone. I've always liked to be alone in the mornings. Which, when I was younger I think was weird to some, and hard for my fellow morning person dad.
Posted by Lucinda at 6:48 AM