“I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.” | Nietzsche
The quiet of today finds me at home in the garden, during the weekday for a change.
On weekends, this place is often a cauldron of activity. Barbecues, swimming, music, laughter, drinks by the fireplace, and lots of other fun things.
But today? Lovely, delightful quiet, marred only by the occasional sound of faraway traffic or the bark of a neighborhood dog or two.
Like a thief, I’ll greedily covet this afternoon……this day…this treasured solitude and make it my own for as long as I possibly can.
I’m off early from work, as opposing counsel was granted a continuance on a motion today.
“Another pointless delay,” my boss tightly mutters as we all file out of the courtroom.
The client bids us farewell. Nick and I walk in silent camaraderie to the exit.
“But not an entirely unwelcome reprieve,” I murmur as we descend the stairs of the Federal Courthouse.
“Well, shall we call it?” he asks, benevolently, in his deep voice.
“You’re reading my mind! See you tomorrow!” I quickly reply, lest he remembers something, anything pressing back at the office. He’s practically famous for turning around and calling me back after we’ve parted.
We share a quick embrace, the wool of our winter coats briefly acquainted for a change. Then, I make my narrow escape. I sigh with relief when my freedom is apparent.
After an unremarkable commute, I find myself here in my little sanctuary, in the company of some tea and the nakedness of my thoughts.
Serene, pleasant thoughts. Dark, bewildering thoughts….all are welcomed today. Thankfully, they’re quieter than words.
It’s an unseasonably warm day and dusky sunlight seems to be hanging in there with me, nourishing my skin, fulfilling her promise of warmth before indifferent winter makes its narcissistic appearance. I silently wonder how many more days she’ll languish before she can no longer hog the larger portion of these precious hours.
I almost forgot to mention, Charlie is here with me, too. As a 10 1/2 week old puppy, he’s become the top priority in our home, of late. He is the baby and boy, do the girls know it! But, three chihuahuas are better than two, I reason.
Right now, he’s going about his business of inspections, working out his daily route. He rushes to his private spot to tend to his personal matters. Then he gleefully races across the yard, stumbling only twice today. His tiny scampers are becoming full on runs as each day passes. He circles the yard and barrels back to me as fast as his tiny, chubby legs will allow.
It’s hard to miss the pure joy whipping his fuzzy ears back as he blazes around his merry, little way. Life is good for Charlie. Life is good for me, too.
I am so grateful for this moment.