The warm November is sliding into a warm December. It’s raining this morning, but it’s still plenty warm enough for writing on the porch. Now it’s time for a run, and I’m waiting for the band of showers I can see on the radar loop to pass over. Slowly, I’m beginning to figure out how to manage my days without the overwhelmingly intense central focus of a big job. What is my job now? Is it okay to not have a “job?” How much consulting work do I want? When will David and I have an actual vacation, a real step-out-of-our-lives break of a week or two? What matters beyond being with my family and friends? How often can I manage to be with Emilio? What do I want to do? What am I doing?
Noticing how the beads of rain are hanging from every horizontal surface this morning, the twiggy branches of bushes, the red winterberries, the prickly foliage of the barberry, the wire fence of the pasture across the street. Be. Here. Now.