I like to sit in a dark room and listen to music; especially if I can look out on a night sky. Tonight’s sky is echoing the silent lightning that would be missed with closed curtains and indoor lighting or TV.
Silent lightning has no thunder or rain to call out “Look at me!” But Mother Nature's silent flashes take a beautifully dark sky and fill it with rolling echoes of pulsating light. This quiet night’s lightning filled my dark room with energy to write.
I never left the house today; I’d like to call it a chore day but I can’t quite make that claim. I do declare though that I will never again own a stick house with three toilets! I’d rather clean an RV toilet any day.
Tomorrow brings June and a daytrip to acquaint myself with a new tow vehicle. I tried to study the owner’s manual today, but could not find focus without sitting in the truck’s cab. Tomorrow I’ll give it my full attention. But it will take me a good while before I’ll declare this new vehicle to be a trusted friend.
I’ve had some long-lost folk on my mind today. I’ve wondered today if one definition of growing old has something to do with outliving those loved ones who best know us. Or maybe they didn’t know me any better than others know me, but they certainly held me close within their lives. And now it is I who hold them.
We Americans seem to thrive on busyness. And busyness usually surrounds us with a flurry of people. But when the busyness goes quiet, so too will the flurry of people. These good folk are not the ones who stay with us during the quiet years of our lives.
Flurries of people are not the ones who hold our lives close to theirs. Seems flurries of people are like curtains closed; making it harder to focus on the quiet lightning of lost loved ones.
But if I look hard enough, especially in a dark room listening to music, the energy of those loved ones brings me to turn on a lamp; to turn on the computer. Their energy gives light to this dark day, and so I write.