My sister spoke to me this morning, silently in colors. “Quit stalling, stop goofing off —get back to our book!” She said this through the switches that control our workstation.
Two electrical outlets charge my computer, one for the DSL and my computer, and the other for the printers and the hub.
Monday, Memorial Day, my husband turned off the computers but forgot the buttons; red and green knobbies glared yesterday morning. The modem, having been all day and night was warm. I’d scowled.
Last night I closed down, waited for the monitors to click off, flipped two switches and went to bed.
This morning the buttons glowed and modem was not warm. It had not been on during the night. My husband did not turn the computers on before leaving for work. I had not left them on.
My sister’s visit.
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2 comments:
Rumi wrote:
The clear bead at the center changes everything.
There are no edges to my loving now.
I've heard it said there's a window that opens
from one mind to another,
but if there's no wall, there's no need
for fitting the window, or the latch.
Hope, it takes courage to open up and armor yourself with the type of honesty that one must embody to write about the past with truthfulness and authenticity. I'm confident that your sister's message is nothing less than a reminder that you cannot stop before you finish your book.
Rumi wrote:
The clear bead at the center changes everything.
There are no edges to my loving now.
I've heard it said there's a window that opens
from one mind to another,
but if there's no wall, there's no need
for fitting the window, or the latch.
Hope, it takes courage to open up and armor yourself with the type of honesty that one must embody to write about the past with truthfulness and authenticity. I'm confident that your sister's message is nothing less than a reminder that you cannot stop before you finish your book.
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