by the light of the monitor

I woke this morning to the lovely sounds of someone snoring. No, I hadn't stirred myself. Bob's home, and even at 4 AM, that slight drone was music to my ears.

He's home, my husband, best friend, companion for twenty-two years. Our first Fourth of July was in 1987, having been together a week. Since then, I've never been alone.

Sometimes up earlier than everyone else, a small bit of light coming through the back door, the eastern hill lit by a small portion of light. Yes, it is 5.21 AM. Once it's past 4, as if some magic number, I have a hard time going back to sleep.

Yet, it's okay. My hubby is back, and all is well.

But it's too early to write; that's coming along. You can keep tabs on that here. As for Bob, he was supposed to get in yesterday at a little after noon, but instead switched flights, arriving after 10 AM. I had the writing done, but not the clean-up, and didn't even get to the read aloud until late last night. Late for me, as I woke yesterday at 4 AM too. Knowing he was going to be home soon? Not sure, but by 8.30 PM last night, I was mumbling to myself, and then went to bed.

Now it's a new day. Soon I'll go into the kitchen, start the tea, have some cereal, breathe in the normality that is one's spouse returned from a prolonged absence. Normality too in the writing; I'd missed it, and this story, while I know the ins and outs, isn't plotted chapter by chapter. After getting the first day written, now it's a project I look forward to with great joy.

Something about creating.... For me, it hits deeply, why I do this, sitting even with little light in the room. Straining to see the keyboard, light emerging over the hill, slowly, slowly changing the night to day.

A day that has my better half home, words waiting to be typed, who knows what else! It's a Friday, Wimbledon men's semi's, the Williams sisters on tap for an American woman's final tomorrow on the Fourth of July.

And on it goes...