birdsong

The clock said 3:33 and it made me move. Half of something. Too late or too early, I don't know. Too much of everything undone around me, but I knew I wasn't going to get anything done. Not any kind of work. Not at this hour anymore. It's not in me right now.

That middle of the night kind of urgency isn't in me now. A passing something. But I got up anyway, told myself I had two hours, three hours to write something, anything, for work I could call done.

But, I didn't. It's the same something I didn't write last week and maybe won't write this week and maybe won't write at all, until I'm eating dog food. Or until I can't afford kibble. Anyway, I can't stomach the smell of dog food, smells like dog food.

Now it's 5:07. My left shoulder's tight. My eye's burn a little at the inside corners and the birds are chirping. But just one. One bird is singing her early morning song and there's a quiet surrounding the notes. Long train whistle blowing hollow, far off to somewhere. A car door and the wind wake of passing traffic.

It's too early to go back to bed, too late to smoke a bowl. Almost daybreak. I'm just sitting here doing the best I can.

The path to abundance. Acceptance. Because slow and erratic, inconsistent, that's just how I am. My head. I'm doing the best I can. It comes and goes. Like it's always come and gone.

Girls are sleep in the bedroom, whole nights through these days. Me, too. Mostly. But now it's 5:15 A.M. That lone bird is calling softer.

Wonder if she's thinking about crawling back into the nest, for just another hour of quiet before the day comes.

good morning gratitude

Yesterday at the ACME gym-mart I was working sweat to the surface on the elliptical and trying to focus on one of the 437 TVs suspended from the ceiling. My eyes go nuts in that room with all the machines and mirrors and people in motion competing for my attention, but finally I settled on CNN, plugged in the head phones and steadied myself on election news.

Put all my focus on Obama. Tried to block out the smell one machine over, like halatosis all over his body. I ran harder, CNN shifted stories. The high price of gas and skyrocketing grocery bills. How it's not just fuel, but commodity traders I can thank for dropping $78 on two bags at Trader Joes. And, oh poor me, because I can't pay my bills and I can barely afford food and how can I feel abundant when buying pillow cases for J & A's school plays triggers panic? Blah, blah, blah, blaghty, blah.

Then my old friend gratitude came home.

And, I remembered.

To be thankful.

Because, guess what.

I'm working out for free. My friend Adam GAVE me two remaining years on his three year gym membership because he wasn't using it. Didn't want it to go to waste. Thanks, Adam.

I've been freaking out over how to pay for Amelia's vision therapy, thousands I don't have and insurance says fuck you about. My brother and his partner offered to cover all of it. Thanks Lou and Tom, just typing that brings tears.

I'm driving a car my friend because my friends Karin and Ben GAVE me one. Thanks, Karin and Ben.

When I moved into this apartment, my friend Heidi did up A & J's beds with matching sheets and blankets. Then she took me shopping to set up my kitchen. Thanks, Heidi.

My cousins in Phoenix have been giving me $50 round trip flight vouchers for years so I can get down to the desert and see my family. Thanks, cousins.

My parents pay for the vouchers and contribute $100 a month toward A & J's tuition, and much to much more to list. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

In the past year my family and friends have a contributed a combined thousands in cash money to keep me going, most of it unsolicited and some of it from people I'd never met or barely knew. You know who you are, thank you!

My eyes get overwhelmed with images, sometimes they forget to see there's a whole big wide open sky above me and solid ground here just beneath my feet.


photo: Joy Dutta