Late nights

Late nights and I are on familiar terms lately. Sometimes it is the only time that I can think without interruption. During the long stretches of silence it is hard to ignore the things my soul wants my brain to know. I have heard people talk about the harsh light of truth but I'm here to assure you that the truth in the dark is just as relentless, just as revealing and just as vital. It is also during these times that all the niggling little thoughts worm their way into my consciousness and take a death grip on my brain. Try as I might I cannot block out the stray thoughts of strange and incomprehensible things that my son has told me, and the specters of what might come to pass, and the panic of events beyond my control.

So, in bold black and white, what bothers me the most is all the nasty details and bills that I may have forgotten to take care off before I left my home. My plan is to take out a piece of paper and one of those nice pens (the kind that just are just smooth and have a good weight) and make a list. My list will include every tiny little thing that nags me because I need to do something. From paying bills to groceries. I will make a separate list of everything that bothers me that I can do nothing about. That way when I freak out I can look at my lists. If It's on list A, then I will take action. If it is on list B, I will let it go. Paper boats - let them go.

Solitude

Insomnia can sometimes provide some interesting experiences. Last night I stood on my back porch at 2:30 a.m. and listened to the quiet. It was a crisp 20 degrees. The 100 ft pine 10 feet from my door was gently raining needles. My eyes traced the trails of rabbit, deer and kitty that crossed the powder snow in the yard. In the distant, back by the tree line I could see the kitty hesitating, trying to decide if I had seen her. Finally she decided that I was too great a risk and as silent as the breeze she disappeared into the neighbor's yard. It was Christmas night and there was not much traffic on the road but I heard a rattling old truck trailing exhaust putt by. I watched my breaths steam clouds and thought of early morning bus stops. The tiny light in the house beckoned me back to warmth, a dying fire and warm kitties. Perhaps the stillness will have seeped deep enough now that I can relax and fall asleep. As I turn to go in I see the empty chair and recall the photo I scanned of Mae sitting in the semi dark of her porch. What was she thinking then or was she just, like me, letting her soul be still and taking in the quiet.