Solitude matters, and for some people, it’s the air they breathe.
I step out onto the deck with a first cup of morning coffee and breathe slow and deep. The cool, fresh morning air all the sweeter having been forced to shut doors and windows, and turn the air conditioner on to escape the smoke late yesterday.
Yesterday, the drone of planes and helicopters was constant; now it is blissfully quiet. Across the valley spot fires still burn, and a wispy smoke leviathan rests.
I wonder if they managed to rescue the baby eagles from their nest atop a burning tree that they were working so hard to save last evening (Update: according to social media the rescue was successful.).
I stand for a while, taking in the majesty of the moment and the place, then open the sliding door and take my cup of coffee back to bed.
The Yorkie follows, hops up on the bed, curls up, and goes back to sleep beside me. I sit for a time, simply looking out the window and being filled. I pick up my iPad and read a message that gives me something to ponder.
In good and slow time, the sun rises and shines in my face. I don’t move; the first kiss of the morning sun a gift I embrace with gratitude.
And so, another day of solitude and silence begins. I will spend a good part of it on my deck with my manuscript and books. There is no place I would rather be.