Four grown kids, five delightful grandchildren, constant, long-time partner. A retired academic, I'm adapting to life in a Vancouver condo after decades in a waterfront home on a very small (Canadian) West Coast island. Keen to discover what new priorities emerge, what interests persist, in this urban life after 60!
For a number of reasons, I've been plagued by insomnia lately. I'm hoping this might abate once I've presented my conference paper on Saturday, although I suspect that my anxiety will simply switch to the wedding we're hosting at the end of August. . . .
Miserable as it is to calculate, each morning, that one will be facing the day on, let's see, 4 hours from 11 'til 3, and then that hour and a half managed from 5 'til 6:30, for a grand total of 5 1/2 hours, there is the small compensation of being up for the first intimations of sunrise.
The morning's earliest whisperings, the world's pastel stirring . . .
I creep barefoot with my camera out the not-quite-French doors, across the deck, down the stairs to the beach, trying to avoid thorns from Paul's rose-pruning enthusiasms, scattered over the concrete patio on the way.
And then click, and click, and tiny quiet camera click again, all those shutter opening and closing sounds mixing with the day's first birdsong. It's still quiet enough to hear the air displacement of wings working overhead, each greeting of rock and wave registers splashily in dawn's tranquility.
I'm sitting in early-morning city right now, our condo window just above a busy street whose traffic sounds change with the clock--I can almost tell time from the rhythm and intensity of the wheels and motors. Several days away from my early mornings enveloped in the beach's peaceful solitude, I still feel its reverbations, its reflection as captured above, mirrored in my front door window.
And I'm sharing its quiet and soothing strength. Happy Summer Day!
p.s. I'm curious: Do you struggle with insomnia as well? how do you deal with it?