Cold Mornings

 The sun rose into a cold day this morning. It's not really cold, only about +25 F. In another month or so I will find such a temperature a pleasant reprieve. Not so this morning. The air slaps my face like the bite of the first shot of clear vodka at an evening party. Everything is relative. 

Cindy is at work again at what is supposed to be her day off. Public Health's computer system went down at the end of her work day preventing her from finishing her charting on the progress or regression of her beloved Covid patients. Once again I find myself alone in this old house. At one time in my life I would have found this dis-heartening at the least or anger provoking at the worst. Not so today. Over time I've accepted the fact that I am but one love in my wife's life. Her love of nursing; her love of helping the afflicted, has permeated her being since before I entered her life. I have played "second fiddle, or at least only a single fiddle of the many in her orchestra. When my own life was busier, full of chasing snotty nosed kids and career generated dollars this often made me angry and frustrated. Today I just accept it as part of her. How could I be so selfish as to want to not share this person with the rest of the world? The world needs her. 

I'm not sure how the previous paragraph relates to it being a cold morning or to "Everything being relative," but these were my thoughts when I sat down to write this on this blog today. I could share with my readers, or bore them, and write about the wood-pecker on my front yard tree, or the few words I exchanged with the lady walking her dog down the street on this brisk morning. (nice lady) But I think I will spare you boredom of reading the individual threads that sew together the tapestry of my life.