Thursday, January 22, 2009
Last night I woke up at 3:23 in the wee hours. I'm not sure what woke me; amazingly it was not one of the fiery hot flashes that usually disturb my nights these days. But that's another story, one you will certainly be subjected to in due course. Bet you can't wait for that one!
As I lay in bed, the house was silent. Almost. Henry snuffled on his dog bed, Tika twitched on hers, dreaming about chasing the squirrels of her youth. B was gently snoring beside me, our legs entwined. Our cuddliest cat Snuffy was in her usual place between us on the bed. We call that place Snuffy Canyon. It is just about as well established as the Grand Canyon. Oliver was stretched out at my feet. Our rebel kitty Squirt was probably out selling crack-laced catnip.
My son had navigated another day at college and on the roads safely, and was asleep in his messy room downstairs.
I have many moments in my life when I give thanks for the blessings of my life. This was one. But it was also one of those perfect, peaceful moments when the outside world and all its cares could never get through the front door.