A Year of Morning Thanks
I wish I knew how I keep myself so busy. Part of the problem has to be this screen in front of me. If I had no computer, I'd have hours of extra time--that seems to me to be a fact. Somehow, it seems, my days are shorter than they've ever been, and there's no end to what stacks of tasks that sit before me. And this ain't self-pity.
That's why, this morning, two hours of writing projects already behind me, I'm thankful for breaks. For the last four years, I'd be getting up in northern Minnesota this morning; this year, no. This year, home. This year, no sparkling lake out the front window. This year, the hint of morning--a slowly graying sky--is all I see through what leaves are left on the ornamental crab just outside the basement window.
Our weather has been gracious as of late, and the world is awash with color. And today--and tomorrow--we're off, no class, no teaching, no reason to go to school.
And for that, this morning, even though we're here at home, I'm very thankful, thankful for breaks.
And now I'm turning off the machine.