Fall in the City

My worries travel about my head on their well-worn path. Yes I understand, I thought when I came across this line in a book I’m reading. Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel. Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel…I sing to myself. The light goes out, my husband softly snores, and I lie there. Not worrying exactly. Thoughts pop into my mind and start leaping about, winding around, jutting here and spiraling there. I try unsuccessfully to contain them, erase them and chant over them. Sometimes I feel as if my mind is crackling with electricity. In the past few weeks, insomnia has returned and things can start to look bleak when you’re short on sleep.

Today though felt soothing like drinking a chocolate milkshake. It was a glorious November day, unusually warm and sunny. A cloudless sky as you can see from the photos I took on our trek across the city to Lake Michigan. The last of the leaves, sunlit and clinging to nearly bare branches, got their chance to dazzle. Watery, abstract reflections of tall buildings made me want to grab a brush and paint. And, the harbor full of abandoned boat slips looked a bit forlorn on such a warm day.

I’m contemplating our good fortune with the arrival of our granddaughter, Mia, born last Wednesday. She joins two older (barely—the oldest isn’t even three yet) brothers who have discovered that she arrived with some different equipment then they have.  If I lived near my daughter I would put my insomnia to good use and rock and sing to my sweet Mia in the middle of the night while everyone else sleeps. Like a circle in a spiral…

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