October 1st 2018

It's as dark as seven minutes past nine in the morning can be, what with the rain and all, to my right, out the sliding glass doors of our Juliette balcony.

I love rainy days more than I love many other things, and today I love it especially. There's a healing-ness about them, don't you think?

I woke this morning to the fifth day of this chest cold that's dwindling slowly. I got up and promptly began boiling water. A peppermint teabag rests inside steaming water in a mug on the counter while I write this. I like to let it steep well.

Today I feel things I can't describe: liberated, exhilarated, and deeply, profoundly pensive, in a way I haven't been in many moons. I think it must be partly this illness I'm wallowing in; I'm forced to take a day or two off of my usual work routine to recover, and it's allowing me to focus on some other things I've put on the back burner, like writing just for the sake of writing. It's also fall now, not only by date but by temperature, subtle changes in the hue of leaves, and that otherworldly feeling you get when the chilled air touches your face. I could cry it's so beautiful.

But more than anything, it's October 1st 2018, a brand new month, and I'm plopped right in the middle of all the wishes and dreams I ever had. I'm here, it's here, they're here, and there's nothing else to say but how lucky I feel, how grateful I am, and how I can hardly believe it when I look around me.