

She woke. Sleep coming too slowly and leaving so soon left her exhausted in the gray light of early morning. No birds singing. No traffic noise. The dog snoring softly beside her on the floor. Too early to get up. She smiles, thinking of the little black and white dog beside her. Button nose, big brown eyes and far too much fur for such a small body, God had a good chuckle when he made him.

She was unaware that she had fallen into sleep again until she woke. Tangled in the covers pulled up over her eyes to block the sun. "What time is it?" Late.

The day starts with coffee. A French press bought year ago and never used comes in handy in these "tough economic times." The cliche annoys the crap out of her. It's a given that whoever coined it wouldn't know a "tough time" if it came up and bit him in the proverbial ass. Though labor intensive, the coffee tastes better and lasts longer this way. Not throwing out half the pot every night is a good thing. Every little bit helps. Another cliche. Doubly annoying.

She gives the dog his morning biscuit. It's gone before she can blink. Another one?  No wonder he's so fat,she thinks, but she can't help herself. Just one more. Then a walk. It's cold outside. Suddenly, after a long and almost too beautiful Indian Summer the winter is going to hit hard, brutal, crippling. She shivers with something between anticipation and despair.

Hours later she struggles with her mail, trying to keep her attention where it belongs but not succeeding. The lack of sleep catches up to her, she has no control over it as she stares at the screen, eyes closing. Getting up to stretch her legs and water the plants, she looks at the little dog, asleep again. She prays that reincarnation is real and knows exactly in what form  wants to come back. Though a cat would be nice, too. 

She decides a walk would be a good idea. She puts on a jacket, deferring to the chill still hanging in the air, and heads out the door,dog in tow. Where should we go? It doesn't matter; the fall colors still cling tenuously to the the trees that line the property, their fallen companions leave a soft carpet on the path below. It is hardly a time to argue. Nature is in a very good mood,and it's easy to hold hands with her and stroll a while. The dog literally dances with excitement. It is turning out to be a very good day. 
She walks, thinking aloud. She does that; she knows she should stop and that it's quite likely some people think she's crazy as a loon, but she does not let that bother her, not really. Hearing her thoughts helps to sort them out. And life needs sorting out right now. "I just wish it were easier," she says, and then laughs aloud at her own foolishness. 

Yes, don't we all. 

 what with trying to find a new place to live and everything else  


