Today, the wind is blowing, the bones are aching, the chill is definitely in the air, but I'm slow. On a day like today, when autumn really is giving it over, I'd figure I'd be fidgeting with getting things done, getting warm and dry, but I'm slow. And man, it feels good to be slow.
I'm probably coming down with something. The kids are sick so my turn is waiting. Nonetheless, after weeks of being on edge, abrasive and unable to focus, this slowness is precious to me. I can rest. I can think. I will not push. I will wait.
I'm not part of the pounding surf, the gusty trees, the rain-soaked slap in the face. I'm a tiny harbour with no wind. The storm will get here, I'm pretty sure, but for now I'll be still.
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