Out of the corner of my waking eyes I made out a shadow on the ceiling. My waking mind didn’t react to it and my ‘think it through’ brain was still rebooting. As it turned out, my left arm had drifted off the end of the bed above the light on my phone charger. Of course my child brain, which is always awake, spent a minute or two making shadow animals.
It’s four a.m. The clocks went back overnight which used to be disorienting while I was working. The only thing I had to orient now, was the tide times. I got up and dressed, feeling free from yet another thing I had to worry about. Another bit of brain space freed. Space that I could fill up with writing, paddling in the sea, picking up driftwood, painting, knitting.
Finding some extra fluffy socks I walk to the front. Willow has taken to sleeping in her hammock. I move a lot when I’m asleep, and I chuckle as I think back on boyfriends who remarked on it. ‘For god’s sake keep still’. I never could. Sometimes Willow will persevere, find a corner or space on the bed that doesn’t get kicked. Last night was not one of them, clearly.
As the coffee pot is heating on the stove, I open my Chromebook and study the weather and tides. Dry this afternoon, thirteen degrees, high tide at two thirty a.m., sunrise eight a.m., low tide at eight fifty. I slip on my Celtic sheepskin boots and pour the coffee into an old, well used travel mug that had commuted with me for five years or more. The colour had peeled a great deal, but it still kept my coffee hot for hours. We’ve been through a lot together, me and that mug.
I grabbed a lighter and a large fluffy, jade-green scarf I’d knitted and stepped out onto the deck. The sea was still high enough that I could hear it. It was calm. The waves broke with a ‘flop’ sound, rather than a ‘crash’. I loved that sound; as if the wave couldn’t really be bothered to be a wave, but it forced itself to do its job.
I lit some lanterns and then sat, cross-legged on the sofa facing out to the water. As I listened I let my mind go wherever it wanted to go. After the four thousand words I did yesterday, perhaps today I’d have a ‘cant be bothered’ day, too.