Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Three

1. Thin white blanket over the greening grass. 

2. Ranunculus in the windowsill, looking so soft and relaxed. 

3. Light. Finally the light. 

4. I move my work station around the house, from basement to kitchen to dining room to the boy's bedroom. Always searching for the light.

5. Cravings: bed, another season of Versailles, a large salad.

6. Eating instead: a cheeseburger, fries, a glass of Banshee Pinot Noir, crème brûlée, a cup of coffee.

7. Almost. 

8. Because the ache and the knowing are too strong to ignore. I already know the changes that are to come. 

9. Still awake. 

10. I don't know why I'm turning on the t.v. I find The Twilight Zone and see that the next episode is one that I used to watch over and over and over again with my youngest when he was a toddler. I think of how we would nap in my bed after pre-school so that I could rest before we had to get the older kids to school. So much has changed and yet so much hasn't.