I delight in the breakfast that is made for me with love including rye toast, sausage links, and perfectly over easy eggs.
A writing friend tells me about a Goldberg book I don’t know and the rush is immediate as I read the description of it being Zen and the little sister of Bones. I wonder why I also name the friend with writing as a label. Do I believe it matters?
The pottery mug used every morning for coffee is a comfort and a pattern.
Podcasts in my ears as drive make the hum of the tires go away for more energizing thoughts.
I drive past the old water park now overgrown and abandoned with a for sale sign on the corner. And as creepy as it looks like a horror movie set I remember the joyous times we had there when it was Enchanted Forest. A tiny theme park with the Mousetrap roller coaster, boats, the octopus ride I almost fell out, Skeeball, and the ski lift umbrellas.
The tall brown grass grows between the curves of the snake water slide hiding the phantom laughter.
The man-made lake in the tiny Town was my introduction to the workforce when I was 17 years old. Many rainy days I spent playing Dodge pong more than Ping. I had thigh welts to prove it.
A look alike Santa’s open sleigh on wheels chugs past me with a huge billowy White cloud like Santa’s beard behind it.
I wake up at 6:30 from a dream I don’t remember and I don’t go back to sleep.
A 4 mile run in the cold drizzle.
The blankets move and cold air seeps in between our bodies and I shudder.
The coffee pot gurgles alerting completion of process.