“I’m still here” seems to be my lament as I open my eyes to a new dawn with old eyes that have seen this morning before and always hoped this morning’s dawn would somehow birth a new day with new experiences and a fulfillment of dreams and desires hoped for and not yet received while I ask “will this be the day?” but I feel change brewing with the winds, the March winds that blew in from February creating a wonder of “just what season are we in” and “what shall I wear today” because every morning is different yet the same and the list of “best to do today” comes into the forefront of my mind all the while feeling the bodily urge to get up and get moving into the day with a revived enthusiasm for another day of sameness with an equal desire for it to be different, pregnant with the hope for a bigness to happen somewhere along the day’s timeline and into the experience I rise with habits set and the coffee poured and the written lists completed and my body now ready to greet whatever will be and then the time passes and I roll into the after “noon” and begin to wonder where that morning, just a blink past, has already gone as I glide into the rest of the afternoon considering what will be for dinner and what time that will all play out and who’s going to provide it from either the freezer or reservations, so early evening winds down the havetos on the day’s lists as the sun begins to wain and my eyes grow weary from the events of the day in consideration and reminiscence of the oddities and usualness this day brought out and I wonder, again, if every day is the same or just a little different from the day before and will it all begin again in tomorrow’s awakening.

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