It's The Little Things

Woke up this morning at 7:02.

My mind immediately told me it would be unforgivable to get up that early on a Sunday morning.

I agreed.

But I was awake. Had to go to the bathroom. Knew that if I got up to go to the bathroom I would never get back to sleep.

So I waited.

Listening to Carol sleep, and Maka do her tiny wheeze.

Until Lakota climbed her way up onto the bed right next to me and demanded attention.

I patted her for a while, kissed her head and got up, looking at my beautiful wife for a second and smiling at Maka all curled up at Carol's feet.

Performed obligatory bathroom disciplines. Opened the bathroom door and both cats were sitting there, waiting.

So goddamn cute.

Maka ran down the stairs, energetic as always. Lakota - slowly, step by step.

As I walked own the stairs listening to the January wind howl, I thought about how nice it is to get up to a warm house.

I dumped out, wiped out and refilled their water bowl. I always get a kick out of how soon they get thirsty when I refill the bowl.

Apparently they prefer their water cold and fresh.

Did the daily neck stretches to fight back against residual pinched nerve discomfort. My neck and shoulder and arm have never been the same since that episode over a year ago. My body and me have struck an awkward balance between almost constant but minor discomfort and occasional pain.

But the pain is never severe and I am always able to bounce back.

Walked out to get Carol's paper, a new ritual.

It has always been a joke with us on weekends when she comes downstairs and I am casual in my recliner, book in lap, empty coffee mug at hand, for her to say: "Did you get my paper?"

I never used to do it. When Jonathan and Sarge died last year I started to do it. Because I am now obsessed with being focused on my family. I care about little ways to make them happy.

I feel good when I make that minimal effort and Carol can come down to a waiting newspaper.

Brewed up a cup of coffee and sat to read the book I am reading about WBCN. A book my son Keith recommended to me.

Got me thinking about my sons. Keith who recommended this book which I am digging deeply, and Craig who gave me a laptop which has freed me to exist in the 21st century.

Little things that make me happy. Deep relationships that define my life.

In between chapters I thought about today. Carol and I are traveling to dreaded Massachusetts to see my brother Ed perform with Symphony Pro Musica. A group of musicians who are supremely talented. Some of whom make a living at it, most of whom don't but should.

Magnificent.

I thought about Eddie and the hell he lived for eight years capped off by the worst emotional pain any human can experience.

These concerts have taken on a deeper significance in my mind now. They represent a part of my brother that is exceptionally talented and committed. I'm guessing they are also a source of soothing, temporary relief for him from his new, harsher reality.

He is proud of these performances, and I am over the top proud to see him associate with and perform with exceptional musicians. Musicians who obviously believe he is exceptional enough to perform with them.

Got up early today. My mind was consumed with thoughts and images and emotions regarding Lakota and Maka, Carol, Keith, Craig, Eddie, Jonathan and Sarge.

Two precious cats, two loved family members who are no longer physically with us, four people who, along with Emily and Karen, make up the small innermost circle of my life.

The small, intense, life-justifying circle that is my life as much as my heart beating and my lungs breathing is my life.