Dust

It was not a night for long sleeping.  Perhaps the double feature of Sherlock Holmes and the movie The Girl in the Cafe had something to do with activity the prevailed upon my time of restoring sleep.  Perhaps it was the chat with my son.  Perhaps it was an example of how Pisces affects the dreamers like me, stirring the dreams into the waking sector of the night while being fully awake.  When I was first woken from sleep it was the hard pinging of rain outside the cracked window that niggled.  "Oh, you can ignore that surely."  I tried to convince my woken dreamer.  Shutting the window tight did not cease the stirred consciousness.  I climbed from the futon, Pete lay asleep deeply.  The rain had indeed begun.  Smiling to myself the thought of the snap peas we had set into the freshly tilled community garden in Lowell drew a grin onto my face.  We hadn't watered them yet.  The clouds did that for us, and I thank 'em!  Dressed in my night shirt I unlocked the front hatch, slipped into my boots.  Glad for my glasses already in place I stepped consciously on the wet wooden steps.  The dust from the short night of sleep washed from me, and I rounded the back of the vardo to find the Denny foil we use to cover the tires from their out-gassing.  "When did that blow free of the wheels?"  Asking no one but my own dear self, I picked up the foil, the offending receiver of rain drops and tossed it under the trailer.

A small thing like this is a magnifying glass of accomplishment for this old gal.  In the years of our flight from this or that, I have been too weak or debilitated in some way, to do such small and comforting things to comfort the two of us.  It has been Pete who shouldered the fix-its and dos.  I climbed the stairs with an acknowledgement ... "Well done, old gal."  I said to myself.  Believing I might be able to reclaim the night of sleep I nestled under the silk comforter and sought sleep.  As I said in the beginning, the dust of dreams was stirred into the inbetween times and instead of sleep there was an inventory of my present come to give me a call.