Jeb wakes with the sniffles and I lose my morning writing hour.
The Bohemian responds with a frothy Vitamix version of orange juice using fresh fruit from our tree. Almost like the Orange Julius drinks I used to get as a kid at the mall, only oh-so-much better.
And once again, there they are. More dots…
In our house, I am the first to rise.
I wake before the birds begin to sing, just before the sky seeps pink on our backyard mango tree.
I brew coffee, light sandalwood incense and type some string of words.
Then I return to silence. Our sleeping house is still full of dreaming.
There are two beds.
In one, a Bohemian man deep rests his gardening body.
In the other, an eight year old boy is fluffed beneath a comforter of feathers.
In early light I make my rounds.
Crawl in beside the Bohemian to feel the restful closeness which I know will soon morph to activities of breakfast and jingling car keys. He may never open his eyes – not quite this early. But his hands will meet me, arms will pull me in.
Eventually, they will release me to the second bed. Where I’ll slide in and tuck beneath the full soft blankets, filling my nose with the soft scent of my son’s hair. Feel his boney elbow press against my ribs. Whisper to him, “it’s another beautiful day” and know not just what he’ll do.
In fickle eight-year old fashion, he may turn and hug me tight. Or he may squirm and grumble “mom, I’m tired…”
The mango comes on in golden glory. Birds seem to celebrate the sun. The stick of incense, now ash. Coffee mug is empty.
The stirring begins. Soon morning’s water will be splashing in the sink.
Physicist, Nassim Haramein, says he had an illuminating moment as a child when he realized that all of existence was made up of dots. From the sub-atomic particles of the cells that make up our bodies, to the pinpoints of stars that splay throughout space. In simplest terms: it’s all dots.
My little family, comprised of myself, Jeb and the Bohemian, well, I guess we’re all dots too. Orbiting each other in close proximity for days, the rainy weather has us inside, up close, and personal.
This morning those two boys are sleeping. And I’m here, the lone woman, with my coffee, a computer screen and hints of Monday morning traffic mingling with birdsong. The trees are swaying. The light is just coming on.
I’m wondering what words are here to share. As I search the inner recesses of my being, tap the cells, what I get are dots.
When you’re only an inch from the screen, all you see is pixelation. A blur of spots, singular and random. Zoom out to take some space, and slowly the chaos reveals an organization only visible through fresh perspective.
A stormy weather weekend has had me on macro lens. It’s beautiful to stop and look in close. Yet sometimes microscopic vision can’t see the forest for the trees.
It’s a new week, and hopefully, some clearing skies. Time to take in an overview.
I’m zooming out. Taking notes on what I find.
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