All night long it seemed I was trying
to order the day ahead. A
restless night after so many in a row of
sleeping well. These nights of unrest happen sometimes. Perhaps it
was the rain and early in the morning thunder and lightning, but
probably not. Just one of those nights.
Bruce got up before 5:00 to get dressed
for his last day of working at the State Fair. He has been a ticket
taker –something different to do in his semi-retirement—and has
thoroughly enjoyed the fair fun and atmosphere. I decided to turn on
the light and read. I could have come up to the garret for morning
devotions or to write this post or even to do what I hope is the last
edit on a chapter for my memoir before I set it aside “at rest”
and then start a new chapter. I know those tasks were on my mind
during the restless night, along with thinking about painting the
inside of the funky closet in the first floor bathroom, a task that
has been on my list all summer long. Here it is Labor Day and I
have still not done that task.
It was dark and cool and raining
outside, and I wondered what stopped me from indulging in a time out
for myself. Our houseguests were sleeping in the lower level guest
room, and I certainly didn't want to wake them with any kitchen noise
as I prepared breakfast or padded around on the first floor.
And on
my bedside table was the new Louise Penny book, A Dead Reckoning.
Her most recent book in the mystery series set in Quebec. Over the
past couple days I had been reading it, choosing times when I could
read undisturbed for a good chunk of time, wanting to savor it. Evenings I sat
in the snuggery, our name for our small front room just large enough for two reading chairs, and
read. One day I sat at the table in the side garden, private and cool, and
had my solitary lunch and read, allotting myself only a certain
amount of time before returning to my desk. I read slowly, sometimes
reading a paragraph or sentence more than once, not wanting to miss
any detail, fully immersing myself into setting and the plot and fully being with the characters I love, but also wanting to slow down my own pace. Don't rush, I
told myself.
I know Bruce is eager to read it, too, but he is gone
all day and tired when he gets home and is not reading much right
now. Therefore, I don't feel pressured. Still, too soon I approached
the end, and I was ambivalent, for once I read the last page I would
have to wait a year or more for the next in the series. But I was
also eager to know how it all turned out.
The only way to know the ending is to
keep reading. To keep turning the pages.
I wasn't disappointed.
And the day is still ahead of me.
An Invitation
What is ahead of you today? I would
love to know.
The book is on our coffee table as I write—a gift from friends. I am anxious to read it.
ReplyDeleteNow it's my husband's turn. Such a treat.
ReplyDelete