Private Sunrise

at least that's how it felt this morning. I slept right up till the alarm at 530 and when I blundered out of the bedroom it looked like the windows were on fire. I hurried out to the balcony to see the morning sun do valiant battle with the bank of clouds. It was a close fight, but in the end the sun pulled back and the clouds won out- there is now a diffuse light (I was going to say mellifluous light but the word makes me wince) and the morning is soft and beautiful.
Yesterday after work I walked around Lake Monger with Kym, and the best part about it, other than talking freely, was the baby birds. I was a little wary of the motherbirds, but man these chicks were cute.
The baby water hens are like long gangly-legged balls of fluff, with an entirely different appeal to the baby ducks. Cygnets too are wonderful, but it's their mothers that worry me!

Steve's death has had a different effect on me than I thought it would, if ever I really thought about it. I was so angry when he moved out, and I thought he had done so much damage, if not to me than to mum, probably most of all himself. Anyway, I was angry (flexing claws again), and thought that if this day ever came I would feel indifferent at best, and happy at worst.
But when I read about it, I felt a kind of itching frustration. Not quite a sadness, but a feeling that no matter how I felt about him in the end, it's still a waste. Or perhaps the only end that could have been. In any case, Laci went to Paks and farewelled him properly, so this chapter closes.

So in awe of the sunrise was I that I missed my pump class. I had a shortsweatysandy walk on the beach to compensate, and there's another class I can go to tonight in the City.
The usual, comforting morning routine now- top up the coffee, cook breakfast, pack lunch, throw clothes around in a flurry of what am I going to wear? All to the soundtrack of Fran Kelly.

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