Here I am. In bed. Eyes WIDE open, pondering what the future holds. And as I lie here I find myself doing what I usually do when I’m floating around aimlessly in my own head: I’m honing in on the details.
At 2:52am I can’t help but notice:
1. The sound of my english bulldog as she breaths in and out deeply. Big sighs. Little sighs. Long pauses. All signs of a dog perfectly content in her current state.
2. Light. Even in the dark, my bedroom curtains are iridescently visible in part to the back porch light I once again forgot to turn off.
3. Adam’s sleeping position: not quite on his back, not quite on his side. Both arms overhead. Head turned slightly to the right. Blankets strewn.
4. Tummy grumbling. It’s mine. And TOTALLY typical even after a filling dinner of spaghetti 7 hours earlier.
5. The lively sound of our neighbors wind chims as they swing to and fro in the wind, all the while competing with the sound of the rain painting the window.
6. A momentary creek of the house settling as it too takes a much needed break from the hustle and bustle of the day.
7. Hair dancing. Yep, hair dancing. Thanks to the bit of light peeking in through the window I can see my hair gently moving to the song of the heater across from the bed.
6. Laundry. A detail, that although NEVER really goes unnoticed, rarely gets tended to these days. The 3 tops hanging from the side of my closet door definitely have zero chance of finding their place INSIDE my closet tomorrow, or anytime soon, for that matter. My apologies dearest clothes.
And even as I lie here, noticing the details of my life in the dark, I am transported back to my time in Paris. I go there in my mind. Remembering. Reminsicing. Feeling. Really letting in what it was that made me feel so alive. So full. So content. So genuinely happy.
Again and again, I find myself noticing, appreciating, absorbing, cherishing and grasping for the details. I continue to listen to the dark. I continue to really feel, letting the details wash over me until the only details that really matter are my own: eye lids closing, breath slowing, muscles relaxing…ah, finally. Sleep.
Jardin des Tuileries on my most favorite and last night in Paris.