Once more I sit here in the wee small hours of the morning. Being a night owl is not something new to me, but tonight I am restless.
I went to bed, but it is cold and I couldn’t get to sleep, not even under a cozy pile of blankets and cuddled up next to one sweetly snoring dog, so here I am.
I played through all the Christmas Carols hoping to warm my fingers up on the piano, but ended up only warming my heart. Pictures of Christmas past spent rehearsing for the local theatre’s holiday productions fill my head and make me nostalgic. Finally leaving the piano, I move onto a blank screen, thinking it is past time to start writing, or maybe re-writing, but my mind wanders.
Sweet wanderings, imaginary adventures, but nothing I can use for real. Imaginations are awkward companions, eliciting feelings that have no place beyond this moment.
I am filled to the brim with love. Over flowing and beyond what I should be at this point in my life, but it is what it is and I guess I should just be grateful. I suppose I could be some dried up old crone, bitter and lonely, but that’s just not who I am. I can’t imagine that ever being me.
Passionate? Yes. Angry? Sometimes. But always alive and immersed in love!
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