Seven Moments

Coffee warmth flows out through the walls of a black and white mug. Decorated with lighthouses. Music as rich as those chocolate-colored depths swirls around the room. Drink it down, past my lips. And my lips.

Are dry.

Rumaging around, up in the attic, where it is dry and cool, now. A vague line of pale bluish light glimmering down from the ridge vent. The first light blub is loose and on the floor. It pops when screwed into the socket. A second fares better. Scatterings of saw dust from the roof work.

Up there, you can feel the outside.

And it feels like Autumn.

The sun pulls light through the sky: bright, weightless beams. Some of the trees around here are wavering on the edge of an Autumn color change. Yellows are rising. The air tastes, just a bit, like Halloween.

Squeeze is playing on the stereo, now. "Annie Get Your Gun." And here is a pile of wintery clothes for the laundry.

The water is cool and clear -- like the day. Smooth, going down.

I'm feeling peppy and mentally jazzed: thinking fast, singing along, and eating a banana.

Groovy!

Pre-heating baby, yeah.

And typing, while David Bowie's Heathen plays in the background.

I'm having a veggie pocket and a bowl of tomato soup for supper. Now, the light has gone horizontal (or nearly) but the air is still bright.

Time ticks and flows.

Smooth.

Sliding in the twilight. The skies are deep cobalt: the evening, young. I'm feeling fresh and mellow.

I remember floating on my back in the ocean, at dusk. The water was warm and calm, rising and falling gently. The clouds were painted in neon shades of orange, pink and aqua. I moved only enough to keep myself afloat -- and oriented so that I could see both the setting sun and the rising moon in the same sky. Around me, the water turned golden.

I feel, just a bit, like that now.

And now...now it is night. I am writing and rising to stretch my back. Sipping some cool water. I'm thinking of a snack (and maybe a little TV) while winding down to bed. This is a moment.

But, really, the seventh is the one in which you are reading this.