i am here now

i am at the dining room table with one lamp on, and the curtains wide open.  i know that my neighbors peek at me.  i do.  they comment on what they've seen.  nice dinner you had.  sewing something colorful.  reading to the boys. 

it would creep me out if i lived in the city.  or if i didn't love them to pieces.

but this is where i am.  on a country corner with a new halogen street light that screams las vegas.  with neighbors who become family by proximity and familiarity.  man children who meet in a garage on thursdays.  kids and dogs who play in the field.  i am here now. 

i have been at the dining room table every morning for the past three weeks.  i wake up and quickly get ready for work.  make some coffee.  i sit and i read and think and sometimes write.  i want the first words i hear and think in the morning to be pure of heart and untainted by the weather.  i want those quiet moments to guide my day. 

i am here now.  words that have been playing in my mind for weeks.   they pop in my head at random times.  i have read them repeatedly.  they are those kind of words.  whispered in your ear before your eyes flutter open in the morning.  i am here now.  you are sitting at my table by proximity and familiarity.  and you are watching through the curtains.  i haven't much to offer, but i am here now.

on a side note.  i have been writing this post for literally weeks.  i have no idea what i'm trying to say.  my words feel vague and nebulous, but for some reason weigh like gravity.  i guess i am here now means living with intention and being present in the moment.  to make a long story short.  simply being.  no more, no less.  knowing that littles, neighbors, a community, may be watching through the dark glass at dawn, while i sit at the dining room table with the curtains wide open.    the end.