Today is another lovely day. It rained last night. I could hear it as I fell asleep. The night got chilly, but I left my window open any way. This morning I heard the birds and thought it a wonderful way to wake up.
The trees are getting so leafy my neighbors’ houses will soon disappear. My deck in summer always feels isolated like a small island in the middle of nowhere. In the winter I can see four houses down to my friends’ house, but in summer I see only a bit of the house closest to me. I like that sense of peace, that aloneness.
I talk out loud. No one is here to listen, but I do it anyway. Sometimes I ask myself where I left what I’m looking for like a book and now and then my glasses. The other night I opened the fridge door, stood looking and wondered what to have for dinner. I directed that question to Gracie but she just cocked her head and walked away. When I banged my hand a while back, I cursed out loud because I believe that unspoken curses have little or no effect and provide no outlet for emotion. An article in the paper sometimes has me mumbling or grousing. I make comments to the TV and often correct grammar. I scoff at action which seems too outrageous. Baseball games make me crazy, and I know a strike-out with men on base is cause for those curses I mentioned earlier. “What are you doing?” is another out loud comment usually said to the batter swinging at obvious balls. If I knew it was a ball, why the heck didn’t that batter?
I don’t remember when I started talking aloud. I have lived here alone since 1977, and I bet I’ve spoken aloud many, many times over the years. I’ve never been worried about it, but should I ever get an answer, some rethinking might be in order.
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