Yearning on a Saturday Morning.
I think I want to begin a blog, one that everyone would love to read, but realistically more because I keep writing stuff in my head, but not in a form where I can revisit it or share it.
I love Saturday mornings when it is just me and the dog and the cat and a cup of fresh coffee. This morning a cup of illy coffee, the smell and taste of which reminds me of Paris.
No rushing to get showered and dressed and out the door. Time to savor the beginning of the day--my favorite part--and think about 'stuff.'
On this particular Feb. 21, I wish I was savoring this coffee in Paris--if I have to be cold. Or perhaps somewhere sunny, near the ocean where I can see and hear the water and receive that 'laying on hands' effect it seems to have on my psyche.
I was reading a Q&A yesterday by a NYT columinist who travels the nation finding interesting people to cover or solving the mystery of interesting facts. I thought what a great job and he is a wonderful writer. I bet he writes something every day. Thus the incentive to begin this written monologue with myself.
Yesterday driving to work I had to switch from NPR my usual morning listen to the local country music station. This was because NPR/WAMU was having a fund drive and so reporting was constantly interrupted with pleas and justification for money. Worthy and necessary no doubt, but if you have already given, completely unneccessary. So I switched to the country station which I listen to mostly because I can understand the words to the songs and can even in some cases sing along. There was a song on by Trace Atkins (I'm not a big fan of his music, but I did like the words to this song). Trace was essentially singing about wishing your life away and then missing what was past; because while it was happening, you were too busy getting through it to enjoy it. I could relate.
Don't know if the title is "you're going to miss this" but those words are followed by "you're going to want this back." He is correct, or at least the songwriter is. As I listened to the song, memories of Jules and Megs fussing flashed and I thought little did I know how much I would miss the sounds of those clashes.
Early morning peace is a good thing, but not when it lasts most of the day. I yearn for the laughter and the noise, the chaos and the joy. I appreciate quiet so much more when it is snatched time from a busy, noisy life.
