Friday, August 5, 2005

A Slow Rain

A slow rain falls outside, but the birds still sing Good Morning. If not for the rain, I would sit on the patio and write.

“Early to bed and early to rise, makes a (wo)man healthy, wealth and wise.” I got the early to rise part down, but last night I almost didn’t get to sleep at all. In bed at 11:00, I was awakened at midnight by my grandson who was staying with me after his birthday party. I reassured him that he was safe and I was downstairs and put him back to bed. I must have drifted off to sleep because I remember waking again at 1:00 a.m. to soft sobs and coughs from upstairs. Up again to reassure him, this time I found it a bit more difficult as he had heard the thunder overhead and was so worried about his mom and dad and their safety. Nothing would ease his fears but a phone call asking dad to come home "now." I tucked him in again and glanced at the clock as I eased back in to my bed -- 1:30 a.m. It was 2 o’clock when I last checked the time.

I awoke at 5:00 this morning, jotted down thoughts in my journal, laid back down to the sounds of rain but was not to sleep again. At 6:30 I realized I would have to start my work day on the three hours of sleep I’d managed to steal from the night.

This calls for an hour of artmaking.

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