Nobody Awake But Us Chickens: Everyday Magic, Between Days 149-150

Just past midnight, and here I am at my desk in my new office, soon to swoosh into Natalie’s room again when she arrives home for winter break in a few days. The furnace kicks on, the chill seeps through the window covering, and the little objects — the salt’n’pepper hugging bear from the set I shared with Natalie, the vase I found in memory of my father — watch over me. There’s no reason to be awake other than how much I like the quiet, the darkness encasing our home as we travel toward the solstice. On one side of this blog entry was the day — vivid and bouncy with lilting work, and tender and sad as I met with a friend going through a hard time, and shepherded my elderly dog to the vet for some pain meds. On the other side is sleep and wherever my dreams — or the outer dreams of this beautiful world — travel me. This is the cusp, and I wrap the silence around me like a blanket before stepping away into what’s next.