Were that the day mine.

Were that I could stay for the day.

I am moved, as of yesterday.

Were that I could linger over freshly-brewed coffee, medium roast. I would.

Were that I could sit on this section of the black leather sofa, stretch out my legs, perhaps later curl into the cat’s position and sleep, I would.

Were that I could write and read the morning, its remaining three hours, away, unfettered by the hands of a clock – rather digits of a computer clock – I would most certainly.

Were that I could, the gentle soothing sounds of piano trickling from the albeit tinny tiny speakers of my Powerbook laptop – a 2004 and still ticking! – oh I would!

Were that I could be here … and stay here … in the silence. The silence and the solitude. Not a soul in the house but I. None to dig at me. Pick on and at me. None to harp, criticize or beat on me.

Just silence. Glorious restful silence save for the flowing sounds from piano keys.

Were that I could stay here for the day, instilling order and organization and finding places for the contents of boxes and bags (not many), as my own energy ebbs and flows, I would, in a heartbeat.

In the silence. Restful silence.

Were that I might take a break and go for a drive … to a park to walk in the Colorado sun … read my noir novel on my belly in the shade of a tree drinking beer from a bottle … then onward to another destination unknown, selected by the wind and perhaps a whim … these too I would surely do, if I could.

Alas, it is not my day to do with as I wish or would, if I could. In a handful of minutes I go to the job. It is my Friday. Fridays are my long day: 9-1/2 to 10 hours; today, because my boss instructed me to come in early, there’ll be an additional hour.

Developments at the job are pressing me even further to find new work. I’m not going to tackle that monstrosity today. Today, as I draw from the drained and shallow pool of energy that exists for a job that I increasingly dislike and binds me too tightly, well, I want to write that I’ll remember this moment.

This very moment, computer on my lap … in a new abode that smells of being freshly-cleaned only yesterday (thank you roommate and his girlfriend!!!) … piano tinkling … in (otherwise) silence and solitude.

This moment, (so) earned by the trudging and soldiering and sheer will to survive, made oh so sweet by the battles, more so treasured and cherished for them.

Today I like where I live and am. It feels good. Restful. Protected and restorative. In silence. In solitude.

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