Writing again

And so it begins. I can see the sun coming in like quiet gold through the blinds and I am sitting here, listening to quiet music and drinking some strong coffee made in my Moka Pot, as I do most mornings. It is -11 degrees outside and today is a day off from work.

While standing outside, the realization hit me that in the past year, I had been turned outward. To others, to family, to friends, to work and all those things that exist outside of me but had rarely taken a moments pause to consider myself in the fantastic bustle of it all.

There were times I considered writing about an event, or as a thought had come to be about some mundane thing, the things that I inordinately take great interest in. But those promptings were fleeting and often set to the side in the light of another task to be completed or other face to seek.

Today belongs to me. There are no plans. Nothing laid down and agreed with others to complete sits before me.

And I am okay with that.

How to start again here and update the world at large, or small, of my comings and goings? I think I will leave that momentous task to time and space. As I write and ponder, I am sure that events will fill themselves in self evidently and for those that are missed and glossed over in the telling, maybe that is for the best? It is kind of the manner of how our memory and mind works. The things of note find themselves ordered first and others fall away, only to be recalled when a certain song, time or place brings them to the front screen of our consciousness.

Had to change the music, as it kept trying to play Christmas carols. I guess I could un-decorate today. I may or may not do that. Either way, it will get done eventually. The decorations hold a certain hushed cheer of all the time spent together with family and friends. It certainly was a great Christmas. one that I will cherish.

I closed out last year by going to the movie with some dear friends and then enjoying lunch. The afternoon found me running food to my parents. What with the bitter cold and all, I did not want them having to get out and know that even they tire of my cooking at times. The evening was spent with my Dad, talking, watching football and then becoming engrossed in yet another BBC program that he finds fascinating as it exercises his mind. All the invites to different parties were laid aside. I felt he came first and decided to spend my time with him. How many the times he has done that for me.

He had some rather severe strokes last year. I was with him when they started happening and they eventually took his speech and put him in the hospital for a few weeks. He found his voice again, and while his mind is as sharp as ever, the lasting effects of these has left him a bit less than who he was at one time. The words don't come out right. Ideas can become jumbled and his short term memory flickers like a worn light bulb in a way that frustrates him greatly. I have learned and am learning to become his eyes and ears, his memory and translator when the words are lost and missing or confusingly jumbled. In a way, it has made me a part of him and him of me. I will carry him now, as he so often carried me while growing up. I have more thoughts on all of that, but will share them at some other time. It is hard watching your hero fade. He is the fulcrum uponwhich I learned to move worlds.

I don't know what I hope to accomplish by writing again. If nothing else, I will use this as an outlet to assort my jumbled thoughts and possibly lay some order to the whirlwind that my life so often becomes. Last year was a good year, even a great year. I did what I set out to do and even more. I am content with that one and am looking forward to this one that is before me.

That is all for right now I believe. There are a few tasks to do. Get ready for the day. Shave my face. Fill the bird feeders and check on all the four wheeled machines in the garage. I have a solid, quiet feeling that this year is going to be another great one. The foundation is laid, I just have to keep building. I am bringing to bear, in slowly building force, all that I am, have been and always knew that I had and could be. It is a quiet storm, but it moves me. Greatly.

Happy New Year, people. Let's make it grand. I hope you'll walk with me here.

daemon