This First Morning

It was a long ten plus hours in the car yesterday on our last leg toward home.  I am always surprised to find the house is just as we left it when I open that front door.  If I left a mess, the mess is still there.  If I left it clean, then I admire my good work.  Even though  on this trip I realized my bed is not as comfortable as the many hotel beds and the mattress is now ready for  replacement, I was into a deep sleep soon after my head hit the pillow.

Beyond afternoon canoe paddles in the mangroves, evening walks on beaches with sunsets,  and high calorie delicious meals of seafood which I wisely never finished (except once, but I had not eaten lunch that day), it is now re-entry time.  Always a bit of an odd feeling liking waking from a dream.

Early this morning, I look out my windows at the deck and see that the gnarly branches of the trees are bare of leaves, the frost is on the lawn and there is that pale pink sunrise painted fog that looks as if wood smoke hangs in the air over the silver quiet river.  Sipping my first cup of coffee I am avoiding making the long list of things that need to be done after weeks away.  I see the spiders in the corners have filled their larders with bugs that must be dusted out the door, the fan above me is covered in dust and must be wiped clean before I turn it on, one of the kitchen lights has burned out, there is almost three weeks of mail waiting at the post office, and the pantry and fridge need replenishing.

But for now, I can watch the pinks and purples of  dawn kiss this very still morning with both man and animal still snuggled warmly in their beds.  I do not think there is a God, but I pray for peace anyway, always someone who keeps her doors open and does not disregard any opportunity for help from a wiser and higher power.  Everyday, I pray for peace before I begin my jumble of stuff to do.

Now I will go blog reading and begin an hour of catching up with all of you, knowing I have missed huge chunks of your lives.