12/22/13 Sunday morning. The sun rests.
As my refrigerator turns off in the kitchen behind me, the sweet thunder fades too, as though they were singing in chorus. Now, in the time it took for me to write the previous sentence, I can still hear the storm somewhere, but it sounds like a memory. I can hear light, steady rainfall bouncing in puddles because the window in the center of my house is open three inches.
The window really is in the center, the center of the north wall of my square house. Its sill is nine feet over the main level floor. It’s in the midway landing of the stairwell. My recliner sits at the foot of the stairwell, with just enough room not to be obstructive. I have a small house which fits like a glove.
While writing the paragraph above, I could also hear the small oscillating fan up in my bedroom. Now the refrigerator behind me is back on, as well as the water heater in the curtained closet next to my chair. I can’t hear the fan, the rain sounds like a faint trickle. The thunder spoke up a little louder for a few minutes to help me remember God, but now the storm seems — for my ears to imagine it — sleeping like my cat and my dog in my quiet life, where my soul presides … after all.
Facing my eastern windows, I see the houses across the road. The grey morning is exceptionally beautiful, and I recognize that I am happy by my having thought the grey morning beautiful.I can’t see far above the roof line of my neighbors houses because my windows look through my covered porch.
Now all is quiet, but the oscillating fan upstairs. Occasionally the storm makes muffled sounds, as though talking in sleep. I’ve heard a couple of birds since the light began–just now a crow.
I’m yawning. I don’t want to go to sleep. My body didn’t rest well, but I want to stay up and go to church. I got up with the storm this morning around 4, because I had felt the air pressure change and heard a couple of very distant sonic booms. Once I opened the window, I knew there was nothing to fear, but then I wanted to stay up.
I don’t know how to end this little story. I hear geese.
It’s already 7:20. No decision is still a decision, right? Yet, I think for me to decide to stay up is probably the same as “no decision”. I wonder if this case should give me insight into the nature of some of my choices. In this case, I’m going to fight sleep, try to forge ahead as though my destiny is tied in to mastering the challenges of unnatural states of “becoming”.
It’s so rare to have a beautiful experience of pre-dawn aloneness. I don’t want to let it go.
I’ve made my decision. I’m not going to decide while fingers are poised to type. God loves me. I’m going to take it easy on myself, and see what happens next. Good day everyone.