A Moment

I'm sitting here in the old house, me and the dogs, at least one of the cats. Been off work for a week now, and made some small effort to "tidy" up some. Washed furniture covers, vacuumed the floors, cleaned up some of the cobwebs. Even cleared some clutter off the tables and counters. I'm sitting here, enjoying the warm light from a new oil lamp, the kind with a shade,  just purchased at the Co-Op (thanks to a coupon), and the happy glow of the christmas lights which hang from the ceilings year round. Sitting here looking out the "kitchen" window at the lovely view of a tree covered hill and a cloudy sky with patches of blue, as the sun starts to set, and I can see the reflection of all those lights in the glass, and I think, "this is a perfect moment". I don't have anybody to share this moment with. But that's OK. Because it occurs to me that sometimes you need to be alone in order to feel connected. Being the only person means there is no one to expect anything from, so you won't be disappointed. No one to make happy, so you won't feel failure. No one to need, so you won't be abandoned.

What does that mean? Shit, I don't know. I just know that at this moment I am grateful. I have warmth, light, plumbing. I'm not hungry. I'm not really alone. Got at least four other beasts in here besides me. I have beer and high speed internet. So, thanks. Life is good.