Slow Sunday #25

Rain changed over to snow,  just like the weather man had predicted. The grass disappeared within an hour of the precipitation change. Once again trees and shrubs wore their frosty coats. I am hoping this will be the last time for many months.

The day moves in slow motion, in contrast to the whipping wind outside my windows. This is not a day to leave the warmth of the house. So small tasks that had been put off, are completed. Receipts are filed, expense reports and time sheets are completed, and books are returned to shelves.

The day continues to crawl along. It is quiet. There are no sounds other than the wind gusting, loudly at first then dying to a whisper. It is a constant battle of strength. I begin The False Prince, but my eyes grow heavy. My head throbs with each word I read. I close my eyes and rest.

Although my body seems still, my mind jumps from one topic to the next. The most pressing need is I need a slice for tomorrow. How can I describe this day?  Slowly I plan it out as I drift away for a few minutes. I am aware of the wind again, the creaking of my husband’s recliner as he leans back. My slice that sounded so good in my head moments before, evaporated as I turned on the computer to begin composing. My fingers could not remember the words to type.

Time for contemplation is gone, supper must be prepared, My time on the couch has ended for this afternoon. A slice has been written, all the while the blustery wind has caused the trees to perform twists and turns they did not know was possible.

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