January 2011 Small Stones Recap

In the process of cleaning up files on my computer, I found my small stones from last January:

1.1.11- new year’s day… so many stones to pick from…

1.2.11- i resort to writing with my left hand, as Zeus is sleeping with his little poodley head nestled in the crook of my right arm. my handwriting is scrawly and unfamiliar, but I recognize my thoughts…

1.3.11– “That’s the last time I’m going to tell you,” I hear a young mother warning her toddler. “No,” I think to myself, “that is most definitely NOT the last time you are going to tell her.”

1.4.11– Everywhere i look, i see stacks of dirty dishes, piles of laundry, litter that needs cleaning, leaves strewn haphazardly on the lawn… Is this a natural part of the entropy of the universe, or is something else going on here?

1.5.11– i shiver my way into my clothes, feel the scratch of the hairbrush against my scalp… on track this morning…

1.6.11– morning fog… one foot in front of the other…

1.7.11– driving rain… plunging into obsidian darkness

1.8.11– fleecy clouds… sheep as far as the eye can see

1.9.11– closing my eyes, i still feel the motion of the car…

1.10.11– more and more people spill into the room until we are practically mat to mat, as we move through the asanas, alone and together…

1.11.11– a murmuration of starlings sweep in on the wind and deposit themselves on the lawn, nodding and bouncing and pecking for food…

1.12.11– for a single hour, my life fits neatly within the confines of a lavender yoga mat…

1.13.11– i wake with the fragments of last night’s dream still clinging to me, like tiny bits of egg shell

1.14.11– shadowy shapes detach themselves from the general darkness, as my eyes begin to adjust. the glowing green numbers on my clock radio say 3:46 a.m. two more hours until morning.

1.15.11– midwinter morning… for the longest time, there is only the hum of the furnace and the scrape of my spoon along the sides of my cereal bowl.

1.16.11- already the numbers are washing off my hand, where I wrote my gym locker combination– does memory fade so quickly?

1.17.11- showers, low clouds, mist, drizzle, mizzle, precipitation, liquid sunshine, cloudburst, sprinkles, heavy dew… just how many ways can you say “rain”?

1.18.11- i had forgotten how insanely happy seeing the sun makes me. i had forgotten how incessant rain seeps into my soul, filling the cracks.

1.19.11- there’s ice on the lid of the garbage can this morning… and birdsong in the air.

1.20.11- it has been so long since i last heard the clackety clack clack of duplos being tossed into a bin. it seems like 1, 2, … no, 3 lifetimes ago.

1.21.11- i note in passing that the dishwasher is no longer leaking. sometimes a good thing is simply the absence of a bad thing.

1.22.11- coming out of yoga class this morning, blinking like a mole in the unaccustomed sunlight…

1.23.11- the sky lightens so gradually, I don’t see the change until after it has already happened.

1.24.11- as the fog lifts, i see that the pine is not alone after all.

1.25.11- he chews on his bone with single-minded determination, as if his life depended on it. five minutes later, he will be just as focused on something else entirely.

1.26.11- the birds are chattering away as if they have been holding in some great secret for a long time now. I think I might just know what it is.

1.27.11- One of the nicest things about living here is that just when you think you can’t take another day of rain, the signs of spring are everywhere. I’m expecting crocuses any day now…

1.28.11- rain-soaked lawn. wet maple  leaves hitch a ride, on the soles of my shoes.

1.29.11- I carefully reach into the package and select a new sponge to replace the old one. Yellow. For sunshine. A girl can dream.

1.30.11- I pause to listen to the sound of geese overhead announcing their presence. Are they back, or have they never left?

1.31.11- as I walk the track, i resist the impulse to count laps. for the next hour at least, i will not be bound by expectations.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s