On, In, and Around Mondays: Room with A View
It is Saturday. Writing day. Usually I am out on one of the porches, either looking towards hemlocks or the little herb garden where I have—amidst flowers—rosemary, sage and thyme. But today it is peach-yellow bedroom walls, antique carved wooden rocker, a pile of French children's books, and an eclipsed view of the river (trees in full leaf obscure it until winter).
My chest hurts and, oddly, my legs. Yesterday I thought I would be better by today. Instead I feel like I must have run a marathon and my muscles have post-workout lactic acid buildup. I did not run a marathon. I am simply sick.
I can hear guitar in the next room. "For me He died, for me He lives." It is the song for tonight, the accompaniment for a daughter who will sing her father's last request. We worshiped alongside her father for many years, prayed with him and, more lately, for him. He was not that old. His daughter is, I think, too young to have to sing this song.
Now I hear the strains of the final refrain, "And everlasting life and light He freely gives."
I am writing in my peach-yellow bedroom. The color cheers me, even as I lie here sore and headachy. In a few minutes I will pull my sheets over my shoulders and go back to sleep. I look out my window. I know the river is beyond the trees.
Trees by the River photo, by L.L. Barkat.
On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place.
Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below. If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)