Saturday, March 22, 2025, 27.5* Sun Rising.
I disturbed the dreams of Ruger, sleeping by the bedroom door instead of on the sofa at 3 this morning. He stood to let me pass to get a glass of water. I wonder if the chirp of the smoke detector hurts his ears, or if something else unsettles him. Maybe he remembered he didn’t get to see Chris yesterday, he missed the extra attention, he missed getting petted. I hadn’t realized Ruger was in the room with Zayne when I put up the security gate. Zsolt, would not be corralled; not interested in my son’s touch, he roamed about growling. Finally released, Ruger got to see the red truck leaving.
The snow of yesterday remains on the railing, on the car, on splotches of land plastered in place by icy winds that blew over the snow shovel. Last night the three unhappily sat while I tossed salted sand across the icy deck hoping it tumbled to the bottom of the ramp so they wouldn’t.
Through windows covered by the film of living, a place fingers leave designs that will last until I clean them, I see Mariah gently plays with trees happy to see Soleil rising. If she doesn’t have an early meeting with the clouds perhaps Soleil will do some window painting.
Every good and perfect gift is from above,
coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights,
who does not change like shifting shadows.
James 1:17 NIV
Photo: LJ Austin
