Home. Alone.

Wow. A quiet house. This truly hardly ever happens. And I don't know if I like it. Todd's bowling, Tara is off at a wedding rehersal, and I just got back from walking up the hill from downtown Stillwater. I'd thought the art crawl was going on tonight, but, nope...., it's next Friday.

One week off is not too bad. Some things in life - especially art-wise - are one YEAR or more "off." Then there are the notes one should write, the notes one wants to write, the vegetables to be harvested, the clothes to be folded. The plans one plans to plan. All the while we ARE doing stuff, and even wonderful things. However they zoom out of mind so quickly, only to be replaced by big clunking chunks of Nagging Guilt. Hmmm. A year already. That cannot be possible. But, yes, it's been twelve months since the Fall Edina art fair, and, yes, you have just put up the booth for this weekend's festival at Marine-on-the-Saint-Croix. The Green Bay Packers are done playing practice games and have already won their first "real" contest. A year has truly passed.

Sigh. So now the choices are: relax and read a book, work on greeting card orders, or start a new acrylic bruin "just for fun." First, it's tea time, and list-making time, and looking-out-the-window-at-darkening-sky time. Sigh.

I'm glad that there is still a wee bit of moment awareness - and a half-hour of silence - every now and then. Sit back and try five minutes.... It may be hard, but it might get easy. And even though we are weeks and years "off" on somethings, it might help to give yourself a five-minutes-right-now every now and then. Today the five minutes found a goldfinch at the bird-feeder. It might be a year before one comes again. We will hope time doesn't fly quite that fast. So on to a few more silent minutes, than back to the joys of sound. Tonight I think Jim Morrison and The Doors will break the silence well. Or Bach. Or Buddy Holly. I'm home alone. And the ears are missing their music.

On to the evening. On to some art. On to the joys of tea and toast. A toast to days and weeks and years and lives of sound and silence.
Fare-thee-well,
Sue