Let’s Start Over

He blew her some kisses but they were emoji kisses. They would have to do.

“I truly wish I shared your optimism.”

“Me to,” she replied, virtually – hoping to stave off his reasons for wanting to go on to some place that might be a little more like heaven – or some place that wasn’t at all, anything.

“On your last note, seems a little presumptuous. The end may be glorious.”

Who knows what is to come? Certainly some may think they do. Seems more fitting to wait and see. Braver anyway.

Today the little space heater quit all of a sudden. “Well, there that goes,” she thought and her next thought was, “I guess it’s time to invest in a wood burning stove. Get off this lazy sit expecting electricity to never fail and for products to last longer than a season.” It was only 55° F inside – but clothes and blankets can get rather cumbersome.

More expectations of ease.

It turned out the kitties had roughhoused around the plug and pulled it out. She could go back to being lazy and wasting some more money.

“Wood can be free. What else can be free? Hmm.”

She was drumming up ideas for how to get out of the matrix – the coming nano, cloud connecting, reset, AI, jab matrix. She wondered how she could become invisible – elude and evade the enemy.

“It’s always something – electricity and appliances failing or jabs coming.”

London bridge is falling down.

How to be happy. Just be happy.

She was also wishing that he was free. She was wishing that she could say, “Let’s start over. Let’s try it again. This time, let’s be happy.”

Jingle Bells.

He wasn’t a kind to be very happy. Some people are just made that way. He was inclined to be encumbered with depression. She could be too if she wasn’t careful.

Art. Art saves a person’s soul. There is truth in art and truth is what will set the spirit free. Making it especially.

Maybe he needed to make some art.

Hopefully the sun will come around again tomorrow with its warming rays and brightness. Or perhaps some rain. Either way – maybe tomorrow we can all start over.

Let’s start over.

Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay 

Disappeared The Wall

There was a certain way the sun came in through the blinds from the east in the earlier hours of the morning — more exposure like one was on display in a cage — the light disappeared the wall — not that anyone was outside looking in but the room was lit like it was waiting for a performer — and all the colors seemed to be imported from Cuba.

Overexposure.

Remembering how the beach would change throughout a day and by the time the day’s play was completed, the beach no longer held its charm — it was a better time for going home.

Earlier light is better on a beach for playing.

Inside the living room, where the big window is that gets the earlier east, stage-like lighting at this low-lying light stage of winter season, it is better after the sun goes, or the earth moves so that the beam is on the roof. But it was still a stillness that was beautiful — watching waking — it just seemed like the sun could see something it might not ought to — her soul perhaps.

Then the birds came for scratching dirt and then after them a stray to leave his mark where others had been before him. Thank goodness the birds were gone by then.

The exposure went too quickly even though its ability to see was disconcerting. It was like a new friend — someone different — someone with new words to hear. She would have made a record except that whatever words there were went by before a record could be made except for this.

She’ll try again tomorrow if too much hasn’t changed or it wasn’t just a fleeting thing or she gets up too late.