West Texas wind8
Yesterday was a springlike, warm day, with blue sky, wispy clouds, and breezes from the southwest.
Today is a fall-like day, breezes from the north pooling cold air into the region and grey clouds piling up in the sky. The temperature Friday was 82 degrees F. Today it was about 68 F. Tonight, forecasters predict the temps will fall into the 20s and will barely climb above 30 tomorrow. Freezing rain, snow and sleet are on the menu for Sunday and Monday morning, so it's a typical West Texas weather pattern, which is to say, predictably unpredictable with a likely chance of anything possible.
My bronchitis is finally letting go of my head and lungs, and I'm less dizzy from air deprivation.
My energy level is higher than it's been in two weeks, though it's still low. Amazing how an invisible "bug" can knock the lead out of a man's pencil and leave him gasping for air, struggling to stay awake, and fighting lethargy every hour.
Worst case of bronchitis I've ever had, and that's saying something since I've had more than a few cases in my 63 years.
Still, it's good be alive.
I like the feeling of electricity flowing through my brain, down my spine and into my body. I like the sensations of warmth, cold, aches and pains, and vitality - all in their turn - that rise in my body and consciousness.
Debra too has been sick, and sad because the illness denied her the company of her grandson, River, who only just entered the circus of life in December, less than two months ago.
He's a hoot!
Amazing to watch a newborn begin to explore the senses - vision, smell, taste, pressure from gravity, body warmth, hunger, satisfaction, and contentment.
River seems to enjoy contentment most of all, and I enjoy watching his expressions change with every new awareness, however flitting or brief, that his body and mind reveal to him.
I try to recall what it was like to be two months old and helplessly dependent on the big beings around me, who seemed to want to pick me up, hold me, and coo and softly sing, but that memory is buried out of reach of my consciousness. So I pretend to understand what River is experiencing, and I find life full of wonder and fun - without having to try to imagine.
I hope it snows tomorrow. I hope it snows and sleets and piles high in the streets and surrounding lawns and parks, and I hope it all freezes on Monday. I hope another layer of snow falls on the frozen sheet of packed ice (I imagine) that settled from Sunday's precipitation.
Then, perhaps, my phone will ring at 6 a.m. Monday, and a computer-generated message will inform me that the university offices will be closed due to inclement weather.
It's been a long time since we've had a "snow day" off from work, and Monday would be a perfect day for that to happen again.
As time passes, I find myself enjoying life the same way I once did when the world was a giant mystery to me, and all things were new and magical, and the potential for miracles was ever blooming in my dreams.
I suppose it's a function of aging to begin to find value in moments of inconsequential perceptions. Mortality grows with the passing time, or I should say, the thought of being mortal and moving closer to death as time slips away is a recurrent theme for me lately. It's not that I fear dying, it's just that death, and the idea of dying, seems to be an omnipresent soft voice that sings to me when my guard is down.
But many wonders remain to be seen, and I intend to see them all!