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Last Night
It's early
Thursday morning. The light of day still has not arrived. I've
placed some milk in the microwave and set it to warm up for three
minutes at power four. It's been a good week so far.
I've exercised
everyday, and I've walked with Andy and hiked with our sister
on Tuesday. Andy and I even spent some time helping our sister
with some projects at her guitar shop after our hike. Nugget and
Mica slept most of the day, occasionally waking to bark at a customer.
And on Wednesday I spent a little time and money to get a hair
cut. It looks and feels great.
As the microwave
hums along I turn on the television to view a recording I made
last night while asleep. I should know in a few minutes, as I
dim the screen, whether I need to clean out my Roth and drastically
lower the prices of my two properties in the hopes that someone
might consider them the steal that those prices will make them.
I take a deep breath and play the recording. Slowly the balls
drop or are pulled into their order, and I pause the image when
all the numbers show for all the lotteries drawn last night.
I get up
and travel the length of my home, touching the wall and sighing
as I have grown to love having a home. A place where I have my
own washer and dryer. I truly love having a place where I can
be. I gather up a few slips of paper and make my way back to the
dim numbers on the screen, the microwave telling me that my milk
is now ready.
I toss the
slips of paper on the futon and set back to prepare my breakfast
before I know the answer. I ponder the many emotions I've ridden
over the years leading up to this moment, now wondering again
what it will be like to have to leave--to lose everything. As
I cover the instant oatmeal to allow it to meld with the milk,
I get ready to meld with the moment that I have everything.
by
David Biagini
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