I have added five souls to my daily routine. Rarely, we catch, like a hang-nail on the soft weave of daily life, but for the most part we are respectfully in tune with each other and allow for creative and emotional venting. Walks along the Wapack allow Gaia and B to expend energies pent-up by change; visits with neighbor’s goats bring an almost stupid grin to Hanni, and the rest of us all seem to find our moments of bliss.
How strange, to be old enough to know this is a blip in time and to relish it rather than to give in to the frustration and fear of change?
I share my bed with three dogs now; not all the time, and not always all three. But when I come home at night, peel off the day’s suit of armor and look at my bed, I know it will take a moment to make it mine again. Covers are strewn and pillows are dented. From my bed, they can survey the drive and the comings and goings of the house. From this spot, they are high enough and angled just perfectly for the windows. Alice, Chuck and Thelma share the boundary patrol from comfortable stations.
I shake off the duvet cover, remove the sheet from between it and the comforter, and toss the “dog quilt” layer into the laundry basket. If there are crunchies between the sheets they are of my own making for eating pistachios in bed. No blaming the dogs for those nuggets of discomfort.
Once I am settled cross-legged on a clean platform, they circle like fish focused on the worm of my hook, aka peacefulness. Alice jumps up and stretches across the bottom of the bed, strategically covering the cool spot in line with the open windows. Chuck tip-toes around, gauging his leap and what territory it will land him. Thelma struts in, goes straight for my pillows and turns her butt at me. My suggestion she leave is met with surly indignation.
Gaia bounces in, all fluff and blue eyes. “Is anyone playing in here???!!” She leaps up on the bed, realizes there is no spot of welcome and darts off, careening out the door.
Bed is the most primal of places. It is where you strip off the contact lenses that put everything in sharp perspective and succumb to total release – mind and body. How very primal and pack-like that the bed has become our ground zero.
Such is this exquisite slice of life, this total sensory-overload where I can find bliss or irritation. I choose bliss because the day is too short for wasting a moment on nuggets of discomfort and I probably brought them into the bed myself anyway…