I’ve just spent a full ten minutes debating about whether this title should be “Rambling” – as in “I have been rambling around in the woods” – or “Ramblings”, like a series of random thoughts.
I got up and circled the chair, to look at it from a distance. I put the “S” on and then took it back off again.
More than once!
I even – briefly – considered replacing the “g” with an apostrophe…as in “I’m a ramblin’ man.”
That’s the way my mind is working these days.
I haven’t been sleeping well.
I was wide awake through much of last night. The little dog had gone outside to pee at three o’clock, and I’d gone to the bathroom to do the same. When I came out, she was already at the door, peering in, anxious to get out of the weather. Back in bed, she quivered and moaned in her sleep, breathing fast, heart pounding. When the other dog does that, I attribute it to dreams of chasing squirrels. I wasn’t so quick to let it go, in this case. Had she been terror-stricken when I wasn’t right there at the door to let her in? What went through her little dog-mind for those few moments alone out there in the dark and snow? Was that to blame for her restless sleep now?
After mulling that over for too long in the early morning hours, I turned my attention elsewhere. My notes for art class were brought out for examination and review. My finances then came to the forefront, were worried over and set aside. A grant I’ll be writing was given its due. Next, a hangnail that’s been bothering me, and achy joints, and the persistent tickle in my throat.
Finally, my thoughts turned to my sister Nita who, truth be told, is the cause for my restless nights.
She was sick in bed over Christmas…got worse when she expected to get better…went finally to the hospital…and no good news came of that.
Last week my sister Brenda and her husband drove from Michigan to Florida and back, to collect Nita and her few belongings so that she can be surrounded by friends and family that love her.
She saw a specialist yesterday…is having more tests and procedures today…and will likely begin a difficult treatment regimen next week. It’s not a good prognosis, in any case.
When I spoke to her, she said, “Yeah, I’m dying,” and gave a bit of a laugh. Dad and our sister, Sheila, fill her dreams, she said. “I’m sorry to put you guys through this again,” she told me.
“Don’t worry about us,” I said, “Take care of yourself!”
In the middle of the night, seems I can do enough worrying for all of us.