Thinking outloud in the fog

Today is a difficult day. There is no one reason. The weather is great. The sun is shining, the air is warm with a light breeze. 

I finally got my compost bin assembled. It was frustrating. There were no actual instructions. There were five pictures on the side of the box that gave an idea of what to do. 


I cleaned up the back porch a little. I put down the recycled rubber stepping stones near the bird feeder. The grill is out  of propane so I packed it up for the winter. 

It was when I sat on the back porch the weirdness seeped in. The warm sun passed midday and flooded the chair. Little birds busied themselves at the feeder, ignoring me as I watched. 

In the distance I could hear the squeals  and laughter of elementary kids getting in one last day of outdoor recess. I miss that sound. It brings back memories of life when my sons were small. 

Thinking of all the preps needed before Thanksgiving next week melancholy  over comes me. This is the fourth year without Bryan, and the first without my mother. 

So I sit. 

A text message jerks my mind back to the present and I go inside. And as if a gift from my Boxer Jack,  I find Attack Cat snuggled up on the dog pillow napping. 

Shaking my head the smile on ny face announces my complete weakness where kittens are concerned. “I’ll put him out later,” I think.