I take a breath of air, fresh air, really for the first time, in a very long time. The moon shines from the north, near my mountain. Somewhere, but not too far, the sounds of the stream. An owl hoot breaks my concentration, but it was needed. My mind had drifted back to why I changed my life completely around to this self-imposed exile on my mountain. The accident? Or was it?
A tear appears, but is replaced by anger and questions. I don’t cry much anymore, seems there all gone or used up now. I call it, dry crying. I don’t sleep much anymore, if I get 3 or 5 hours a night I consider that a victory. I smell the coffee brewing and know what I must do today. Doc should be here in a few hours. Simon is not a traditional doctor, but I’ll get into later. Jockstrap makes an appearance, my faithful Irish wolfhound. I look down thinking what I and old Jockstrap have done together, and smile, but shiver also.
There will be much planning today and I knew Jockstrap sensed my feelings. My quiet is broken by thunder. “A storm is coming old buddy.” I smile to myself thinking in more ways than one.