How am I so sleepy after a good night of restful sleep? I yawn as I change from slip-on shoes to hiking boots for my walk. The sky is still quite dark to my eyes, but the camera sees the world differently, and picks up the blues and purples of the predawn sky. I get started down the trail.
To the human eye it’s much darker, but daybreak is coming.
I walk watching the hint of light in the sky slowly become a glow, hinting at the imminent sunrise. I keep walking, happy to see another one. Still yawning. (Pretty sure I could easily go back to bed and sleep awhile longer.)
It’s my first day back to work after my getaway to the coast. The only work day this week. Feels like I’m gonna need a lot of coffee… 😂
Step after step, I keep walking down the trail. It’s still dark when I reach my halfway point, although there are now obvious signs of the coming sunrise. There’s a hot breeze blowing. Feels like a hot day ahead. I sit with my thoughts, watching the sky change. Soon enough, it will be time to begin again…
Well, shit. Every now and then, just when I start feeling like maybe I’m “well” and whole, and not beat down by bullshit and baggage, and perhaps just maybe there’s something like a “happily ever after” potentially lurking around the next bend in the path… I have a day like today. It’s been a wild ride…
I spilled my Traveling Partner’s coffee early in the morning, mere minutes before we needed to leave for an appointment we could not risk being late for. It didn’t take long to clean up, but it disrupted my calm rather a lot.
The drive into the city got going pretty nicely, except for some reason my Traveling Partner’s phone wasn’t pairing, and once it did, it seemed all his personalized settings for the truck were gone. Annoying. Negative emotions carry a certain unfortunate contagion, too. It was less than ideal.
Traffic was routine, but the route the GPS selected, while familiar, was the most likely to be congested, and it was pretty annoying to drive past a turn that could have taken me down pleasant country roads. That’s on me though, eh? I know GPS is not “AI” – no intelligence, no understanding, no context to the decision-making. I could have chosen differently, but decided against it. My reasoning was poor, and I paid for that.
We got to the appointment in plenty of time, but in the process of getting the truck parked…well…I… Let me start by pointing out that a) I never measured the height of the truck with the tire on the roof rack, and also b) the height wasn’t noted anywhere obvious as I pulled in. Yep. I entered the parking garage, and as I turned around the bend to the next level up…I scraped the roof rack, tire and all, right off the top of the truck. 😦 Well, shit. Fuck.
…Not my best moment, not my best day…
…It could have been ever so much worse, and both the truck and I are entirely fine. The roof rack? Not so much.
My Traveling Partner got to his appointment. We managed to also get safely home, mostly in pretty good spirits. I went on with the day, dropping pill containers (shit!), knocking over books, bottles, objects… it’s just been that sort of day. Also… it’s been hot. Like seriously fucking hot, and I am grateful that the day was such that I got to spend most of it indoors, in A/C. Like I said, could have been so much worse.
Yeah. Fucking rough. Some days are. My pain is pretty well managed. Things have calmed down. It’s evening. The house is comfortable, and quiet. I’m fine, for most values of fine… and it’s enough. Tomorrow? Yeah, of course, obviously – I’ll begin again. (Again.)
I woke from a restless interrupted sleep, head aching. I slept on something wrong, and I woke with mild vertigo, which is taking its sweet damned time passing. I woke with my guts in a knot, and drenched in a sticky sweat. I drag myself through something like a morning routine, eager to get to the part where I’ve made coffee, and get to drink it. It doesn’t really help (or hasn’t yet), but it feels comforting and familiar.
I got through the noisy bit of the night by sleeping with noise-canceling headphones on for a while. I woke, again, some hours later and the noisy bathroom fan in an adjacent room had finally been silenced. I thought I’d return to a better, deeper sleep, but instead the remainder of my sleep was filled with restless worried dreams that I no longer remember.
…This cup of coffee is pretty good…
I look around the room and sigh. I have to pack, and it’s time to go home. I’m less than eager to do the packing part, but I’m definitely ready to return home. I miss my Traveling Partner, and I am eager to be in his arms and in his good company again, although we really weren’t ever entirely out of touch. That’s a level of cruelty I don’t aspire to, even when I most need time alone. It’s nice that my partner misses me when I am away, and likes to stay in touch. I feel loved.
I gaze out the open balcony door into the peculiar gray sky. It’s almost sunrise, but it’s another one that I won’t actually see, obscured by dense clouds. I think about getting a walk in, but this morning I just want to drink my coffee, write, watch the sky, pack, and return home. (I’ll probably still get a walk in, after this first cup of coffee…) I think about how pleasant a shower will feel, and wonder whether to do that before or after I pack? Like other thoughts, this one surfaces, I consider it without really engaging with it more directly, and let it pass by like one of the gulls beyond the balcony gliding over the emptied bay. I spend a moment contemplating the bay’s changing views, mud flats at low tide, filled by the incoming tide and looking very much like a proper bay once the tide has filled it again. I could watch this view for days – and do, every time I come here. How many times now? A dozen? More? A reliably satisfying getaway, whether I go to rest and read, or to paint, or to walk the beach and take pictures.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ve enjoyed this quiet self-care time. I feel rested and ready to resume caregiving… and a good thing, too! It’s already time to begin again.
It’s late. Or, it’s early. I suppose it’s a matter of perspective – and expectations. I expected to be asleep right now. From my perspective, it’s quite late. Too early to be awake, by far. It’s just a bit after midnight. I could be sleeping right now… I expected to be sleeping right now… I am not sleeping.
The guest in the room next door (or perhaps directly above me, it’s hard to tell) has left the fan on in their bathroom for what now seems an unreasonable amount of very noisy time. It surprises me that anyone could be sleeping through this ridiculously noisy fan. I’m certainly not. I’m quite wide awake.
I breathe, exhale, relax… and try to “get used to” the noise so I can maybe go back to sleep… (Am I even actually still tired, after “sleeping in” yesterday, and multiple delightful naps today?) I’m not adding annoyance or any particular amount of stress to being wakeful over the noise of a bathroom fan that is not mine, so… I could potentially go back to sleep at any point, once I’ve managed to get past being wakened by this noise. By itself, the noise could be super aggravating (once upon a time definitely would have been). For now, it’s just… well, I’m awake. That’s it. lol I’m awake, and I expected to be asleep.
I sip on a bottle of icy cold water. It’s refreshing. Eventually, I’ll go back to sleep. A couple more hours of sleep, and I’ll wake, shower, have coffee, have breakfast, and get packing to return home. I miss my Traveling Partner. I’m eager to be home. I feel rested and recharged, and were it not for this rather annoyingly timed bit of human misadventure, my away time has been quite nearly perfect (from my perspective). Fucking hell, I do wish someone would turn that fan off, though. LOL I keep sipping on this bottle of water; it is both too late and too early for more coffee.
I stepped outside on the balcony for some air, and it was delightful. I could see the stars – so many stars – and even the Milky Way. Wow. I stood there quietly, breathing in the cool ocean air, listening to the waves.
…Why is there always some asshole leaving a bathroom fan on in a hotel room??…
I sigh, and let go of my expectations. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m here. Now. Yeah, there’s a fan going, and that’s not ideal, but it will, eventually, pass. Probably. Maybe. Or I’ll get used to it vibrating noisily in the background. I laugh to myself, and put on my noise canceling headphones for a while. I could probably sleep in these, they’re pretty comfortable…
I’m sipping my morning coffee contentedly. It’s instant. I don’t care much about that – it’s fine. It’s even fairly good. There’s a sea breeze blowing through the open patio door. The breeze carries the scent of the sea from beyond the bay, and the sounds of sea birds beginning their day. It’s quite early, but past daybreak. A sunrise that I won’t see is imminent, and the skies are cloudy and hinting at more rain. From the desk in my hotel room, I can see gulls walking over the sand of the beach. The tide is out, and Siletz Bay has emptied and become a vast muddy flat, speckled with various seabirds: gulls, herons, and other birds I can’t name.
Morning on Siletz Bay at low tide.
I woke gently after a long-seeming night of decently good quality rest. I woke several times for no obvious reason, but it is a hotel, and it is rather noisy here even during the wee hours. Still, I got ample rest and woke feeling merry and definitely ready for coffee. Without hesitation, I dressed and made my way out and down to the beach for a walk in the cool morning breeze along the edge of the beach before returning to the room and making this very satisfying cup of coffee.
I opened the balcony door wide, to let in the sea breeze and the sound of the ocean. I can’t see it from this “ocean view” room on the first floor, but I can hear it. I’m not complaining, and I’m not dissatisfied, just saying – there’s no actual view of the ocean from this room. The bay is plenty entertaining and visually beautiful (the changing tides see to that). I gaze out through the open balcony door across the bay. Am I hearing thunder? I start feeling a bit chilled, in spite of this cup of hot coffee, so I put on my favorite baggy sweater for warmth, rather than close the door. I sip my coffee.
It’s been a good trip for creative work. I’m very satisfied so far with my progress, as I’ve switched to pastels and now need to learn this new medium. I’m enjoying the studious work of learning something new. I’m focused on landscapes for the most part, and it’s these that drew me to pastels – specifically sunrises and sunsets. There’s no further “why” to any of that, it’s simply the source of my current inspiration. I see a lot of sunrises.
New medium, new work.
It’s been a wholly satisfying break, and I definitely needed the downtime. Today, too, is mine. Mine for reflection, mine for walking, mine for reading, napping, wondering, and wandering. Mine for artistic study and for painting, or even for simply “playing with the colors”. Today begins with more rest, less stress, and hopefully ends with still more rest, and more resilience. The goal is to return home tomorrow ready to see my Traveling Partner through his recovery from his upcoming surgery without feeling exhausted, burdened, or so stressed that I just … can’t. It’s an endurance race, not a sprint – and this much needed pause along the way is intended to keep me in the race, all the way to the finish line, probably some time close to the winter holidays. (Realistically, although his initial recovery from the surgery itself may be pretty quick, I expect it may take some weeks or months for my Traveling Partner to get back to 100%, and I’d like to be quite useful and helpful and available for anything he may need to get there, over that time.)
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The sea breeze fills my lungs, and freshens the room. As the unseen sunrise progresses, I see the palette of the morning beach scene beyond the window change. There are now more shades of sandy beiges, and hints of bright green where strands of seaweed have been left behind by the receding tide. The darker browns of large pieces of driftwood, and the dark grays of the rocks that dot the beach along the bay stand out against the sand. The water is a chilly pale gray, with a hint of blue, and the sky above is quite the same, with a fluffier quality. To the west, a heavy foggy mist clings to the mountainside, obscuring the view. What sort of day will it be, I wonder?
…Where does this path lead?..
It’s too early yet to paint. The natural light coming in through the patio door isn’t yet enough. The interior lights of the room “aren’t the right color”. I laugh at my preferences regarding such things. I know me; if I were truly moved to paint something, with a specific idea in mind, the lighting as it is would not be sufficient to stop me. It’s just not my moment, artistically. I’m happy to sit, write, and drink coffee awhile longer. I think about making breakfast. I think about… beginning again. It’s a lovely day for it.
I breathe. Exhale. Relax. This moment, just as it is, is quite enough. I smile to myself and sip my coffee.
Evening Light 