Never a good sleeper, I’m annoyed that my daily rising has moved from 4 am-ish to 3-am-ish. I accept this practice as something that comes with old age, aching bones, and no partner to cuddle me back to dreamland. Perhaps, as well, my brain is too stuffed with trivia? Sometimes when sleep eludes me I find acceptance by groaning expletives out loud, for no one but my old dog can hear me. Looking up from his bed in puzzlement, even Kodi seems ambivalent, putting off his anticipated daily peanut butter treat until I have guzzled my first cup of tea.
The trade-off is that I have quiet time to peruse my email and to read by the gas fireplace, for winter or summer, its nippy at dawn on this hilltop facing San Francisco bay. And I cherish both diversions.
A lull in the unusual rainstorm visiting us has produced a view to the west that looks frozen in time. A low cloud-bank blankets the city, but strangely nothing is moving, as if it too needs sleep before rejuvenation. The setting full moon was my unexpected treat this morning. About 6:30, it gently slid into the bay. As softly and delicately as I can ever remember. I opened the kitchen sliders to fully appreciate it. The air was still. The moon grew in texture and magnitude, its surface looking like a crumpled piece of Masa paper, as it sunk over Sausilito. Oh, I wish I could capture it!
A compensation to my aging, myopic, astigmatic eyes, I’m getting a new 27” IMAC soon. My big old desk is grumbling in anticipation but my heart is singing. A couple of years ago my sweet friend Andrea introduced me to the Kindle which, like the computer, allows me to increase the print size. .I have now read about 80 books on it. Recently she taught me to download and play Every Word, so now I have another addiction to strain my eyes!
Last month I saw my dear optometrist, Dr. Eng, on his last day of practice. His retirement is a loss for me and many others. He explained to his daughter, who is taking over the office: “Bonnie is one of our patients who has interesting eyes…” I know this is a nice way of saying my eyes are complicated and challenging. Then this past week I saw my beloved opthamologist, Dr. Vastine, for my six month check-up. He happened to have an intern studying to be a corneal specialist who examined me first. I thought she was precious, as she did the initial exam. But then he examined me and pointed out to her not unkindly but without hesitation the things she had missed. He also confided to her that on the next exam he wanted to do some “special tests”. Perhaps he took her aside later and explained his concerns. I was too busy worrying about her feelings to coax him to tell me what he was worried about. Perhaps that is just as well. I don’t wish to worry about my eyes, for I have had instilled in me since childhood that my eyes are the most precious thing I have, and I believe it more every day.
I’m looking forward to Monday when I’ll be trekking to Books, Inc. in the city to buy Christmas books for cousin’s Cynthia and Michelle’s three teenager girls, an annual tradition which I started when the kids were little. The joy of it, other than seeing them, is that they love books passionately and always have, a credit to their Moms great child–rearing.
The painting above is from a photo I took of their youngest, Ella, in the process of choosing her gift books at the bookstore a couple of years ago. One can see that the children are as mesmerized in this process as am I. Can’t wait!
Meanwhile, thanks to all the readers who sent word they appreciated my two stories about Helen K. I enjoyed writing them as well.