I noticed this week began unexpectedly like last week, like the week before, and the week before that. Which is to say, it started in a way that was uncomfortable. Which is to say something has to change. Something is changing.
I noticed a chill on Thursday. I grabbed a wooly white shawl and pulled the warmth of a lamb around my shoulders. I want to be embraced.
I noticed something beautiful. Outside my bathroom window, the hydrangeas are dying pink.
I noticed feeling stronger, more limber, and more lithe in Yoga this week. I wore new pink shorts as a symbol, something about a rose.
I noticed crying when I looked out past the rumbling pasture. Not because of nature's majesty but because I doubted I should be there in the bed of blossoms. Somewhere, someone or something needed me more than I needed to be there, someone somewhere inside me was crying. Someone dying inside me.
I noticed I have a collection of voicemails that stay in perpetuity like a row of headstones. The oldest are from unnamed numbers dating from 2016 and 2017. They are opened envelopes with my father's dormant voice settled to the bottom. Then there are four voicemails stacked together belonging to a half-sister belonging to my father, whom I met for the first time that year in 2019. Lastly, from 2021, the topper is from my first boyfriend, whom I hadn't spoken to in thirty years. I'm not sure why I keep these voicemails. Maybe seeing them in my inbox is like visiting a graveyard.
I noticed the pulsing right side stomach pain is back. Sometimes, it sticks around so long that I forget it's with me. Like an alarm clock it rings a warning. How often can one press snooze before waking up?
I noticed a rush of rising rage collected in my chest when I caught an error. Something pedestrian like a typo took my easy does-it vibe and twisted me into a monster for a minute.
I noticed my heart.
I noticed the questions on the intake form. I've never been asked if I've experienced or am experiencing homicidal thinking before. I think about the brave person willing to ask and hear responses to questions like those. I've never had homicidal or suicidal thoughts before. For that, I am lucky.
I noticed I wanted the fall to catch the summer and make everything lighter. It's darker now. The equinox is here. Still, the auburn leaves will drop soon, and the weight will too. Trees survive stark winter weather by standing bare holding nothing in their branches but hope. They drop their canopies which protect us from the summer sun, that hold the nests of the feathered, and make a stand for themselves. More light passes through the trees empty crown. Call it grace. This giving tree a model of care.
I noticed the zig-zag of gold zapping the blue-black river as the sun melted behind the mountains. The moon was halfsie, not full, not nothing, but hanging at half mast between me and the stars. There was a gulp, the silver rippled lips of the river opened, and a fish slipped back into God. I heard every sound outside of me singing and all sound inside of me gurgling. I skipped dinner and had chocolate ice cream instead. I didn't skip the sunset.
I noticed I'm wishing for tomorrow.
I noticed everything exists only now.