This morning 7:54 raven called three times softly at my bedside window. Blessed Raven.

All night I dreamed and dreamed and I recall not what of.

Cloud cover warmed us overnight. The gray outdoors. So I can crack the window here and get some air, opened just enough--just so--that the bit of wind flutes past wooo-woooo in that lovely way.

I wear my earbud piano music now to blot out the downstairs TV yet still I can hear it, and catTed's obese wheezings from his nap on the landing, and the light plastic bing-bang and rattle as Husband downstairs forages among the prescription bottles in his kit bag. And now the local lumber train passes.

***

I stopped work 1/2way through the first edit of the little book I wrote. Derailed. I'll get back. Yesterday and today I return to my Annotated Notebooks adding to each volume. Years 1998-2007 come to 625 manuscript pages now, and 2008-present is over 500. I may have to break the volumes into Parts before all's said and done.

Anyway, the compiling and editing of things are far more similar to my work habits as editor 25 years, and familiar, comforting, absorbing. And sweeping through the old notes is a wonder to me, of growing sons and lurchings from home to home and heart to heart. Mostly it doesn't make me sad to do it anymore. There are transcendent moments in plenty.