In the darkness midway between yesterday and today, I sit quietly in the chair and rock gently back and forth. It is a time that I enjoy being alone. I can watch the shadows cast here and there on the walls form interesting patterns. Often a pale blue light flickers quickly past me and I know it comes from a parked police car at the intersection. Today, the only sound comes from the wind playing gently with the leaves in the trees.
There isn’t anything I need to do. I am out of bed simply because I am calmer sitting here rocking in my chair, rather than, in bed turning one way, grabbing my mp3 player, clicking it on, putting the bud in my ear and falling back asleep only to find in a very short time to awaken, turn, click, listen and nod off. The third time I think, “That is enough, get the shoes on and go downstairs or upstairs to the studio.” It doesn’t matter which direction I go since each place gives me the same quieting darkness.
I lean my head on the chair back and rock. Soon, in my reverie, I am painting a sunrise on watercolor paper. My mind is the palette and it provides all I need to use on the paper. There are times I sit quietly and begin to turn inward and travel further down into myself to find a blonde haired little boy in blue overhauls and a yellow shirt. It is a juncture where we provide care for each other. As small and young as he is, the little guy is wise with foresight about me. And I, well, I look at him and try to make him know that he isn’t alone and that we shall travel on together. We gently say what must be said. We each listen and know it is the best thing for us for this moment.
Smiling, warmly, I bid the little tyke a gentle night. Without much thought, a new journey in thought begins. I am never alone in my picturesque abstractions. Now I stop along the way and ask questions. The answers come not from strangers, but to those that have left my world and those who are still with me. Each support and strengthen me and help to find an answer I seek.
In my waking world, someone may ask if my dark morning travels are real. Others might know they are real if they have experienced something very much like I do. Each passing day is another opportunity for me to enjoy the quiet darkness midway between yesterday and today.