Reset Forty-Two, Day Eight

Oh, the phone spam of Saturday, so early in the day, waking me yet again with the ringing that has come to sound like a jeer. Then there is the turning (age has eliminated tossing from my rumpled counterpane) and the covering of eyes to diminish the morning light, and the spinning hamster wheel of thoughts that only seem brilliant to my sleep-deprived mind. After an hour or two there is more sleep at last, but not much real rest. Finally waking to the declining day, the back yard fallen into shade, the heat still pooled in the stagnant air. July. Forgetfulness and exhaustion.

Another sandwich, some music videos, news as distressing as any day's, subsequently an escape into nostalgic fantasy, then the cooling air of night and the sound of the mockingbird singing and an occasional passerby on the bike path. Life here has settled into its summer routine, familiar but not comforting. I'm waiting for those grapes to ripen. The reality is unlikely to live up to the expectation, but I can imagine them brining some hint of redemption in their juicy sweetness. The disappointment lies in the future. The pleasure of the dream is now. I can live with that.


( Sunday Verse )