Write. For five minutes straight. One-word prompt, five minutes, no editing. I'm linking up over at Lisa-Jo Baker (aka The Gypsy Mama) where we read, write and encourage.
Morning is the best time to listen: to the house as it creaks, the sound of puppy nails across our wooden floor, the shifts that tell me he's noticed I'm not in bed anymore, the incessant typing- the soundtrack to my life lately. It's quiet and gloomy and the only things truly awake are those stupid parrots screeching outside.
It wasn't much different than this in the mountains. There were still birds and rustling sheets and a brook outside that gurgled all day long with water to freeze your toes. We took a vacation, much anticipated and much needed, packed up all the bits and pieces that make us human though maybe not presentable and flew away.
The stillness there affords a certain amount of reflection that just isn't possible in Orange County. The streetlights burn so bright here there's an constant state of gloom but never any true dark. I've never seen stars from my backyard unless you count the airplanes. The freeways and the sirens and the malfunctioning airplanes are your constant companions. So when we sat and read by the bonfire until it was too dark to see the pages on my screen anymore, I want to let you know that I wasn't really reading. I was listening.
Did you know that in Orange County the planes have to circle around to slow down because there are noise laws to prevent them from making too much sound as they descend? John Wayne Airport will never have anything on coming in over the buildings of downtown San Diego, but it certainly makes for an interesting take off and landing!
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Mrs. E