White
Ran my ass off today, surely walked my 10K steps, so tired. So sore. Most happy for the extra pair of hands. A few expect more, and grumble at what they did not get, and most would not expect. I should have gone in to clean up one room after their case ended. But I'd sat down, and could not convince myself to get up again. Beer and massager and capsaicin rub since I got home.
How the hell did I do this ten hours a day when my back really hurt all the time? Getting old. Or my body is. My mind still flexible, my heart still warm and pliant. But the scar tissue takes over the muscles, the bone bubbles up, the tendons stiffen. The nerves object, the skin mirrors the decay, the hair lets another strand grey.
The sky is beautiful, all dusky purple, golden pinks, smears of orange against gentle blues. I dare not try to catch it on camera, it won't be the same. I hold it in my eyes. We stand and drink it in.
Traded a shift for a fellow nurse's benefit, Wednesday for tomorrow, so I can sleep tomorrow if I can sleep. Thunderous storms last night, so we opened the blinds and window, to watch the show, until it eased enough, and we tried to dream. I managed, D less so.
And since I began to write this, the clouds are a dull white in a grey sky, a quieter appeal, far less flashy, soon to be dark.
Not dark yet, but it's getting there.
How the hell did I do this ten hours a day when my back really hurt all the time? Getting old. Or my body is. My mind still flexible, my heart still warm and pliant. But the scar tissue takes over the muscles, the bone bubbles up, the tendons stiffen. The nerves object, the skin mirrors the decay, the hair lets another strand grey.
The sky is beautiful, all dusky purple, golden pinks, smears of orange against gentle blues. I dare not try to catch it on camera, it won't be the same. I hold it in my eyes. We stand and drink it in.
Traded a shift for a fellow nurse's benefit, Wednesday for tomorrow, so I can sleep tomorrow if I can sleep. Thunderous storms last night, so we opened the blinds and window, to watch the show, until it eased enough, and we tried to dream. I managed, D less so.
And since I began to write this, the clouds are a dull white in a grey sky, a quieter appeal, far less flashy, soon to be dark.
Not dark yet, but it's getting there.
Labels: weather
Posted by Zhoen on Monday, August 29, 2011
3 comments:
We have dark ominous clouds overhead presently, but they are full of rain, not thunder or lightning.
There are song lyrics in there somewhere.
Rou,
Quite right. Last line, Bob Dylan. Not Dark Yet.
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