Another sleepless night which shouldn’t matter since it is Spring Break, but does because the irrigation man turned on the water just before 6 this morning which excited the dogs into a frenzy and guaranteed that sleep was not going to happen anytime soon.
A little over three hours later and the water is turned off, the yard looks like a pond, and the dogs are happily frolicking in the muddy mess.
And I’m tired.
I’ve decided to wait until tomorrow to mop floors and wash bedding.
Irrigation this early on Monday morning means warmer weather is arriving. It was getting light out by 6:30 this morning and will stay that way until close to 7 tonight. Temperatures in the 80s and even 90s this week herald spring more than all the baseball games and calendars ever could.
Now’s the waiting time, for the water to recede, and the warmth to envelope me with the promise of hope and new life.
I want that, more than I can possibly express.
And yet the journey to that place feels overwhelmingly difficult, and lined with failures and detours.
The water begins to recede a bit and I can see the new growth in the grass, lighter green in color, poking above the surface. There’s a beauty in nature that can never be recreated or imitated no matter how hard we try.
And I feel the weight again of the memories, the feelings, the burdens, and wonder if there is any place of beauty for one like me.