Limitations and Possibilities

The sun is orange this morning. I’m no earlier really, but it feels earlier.

I’ve moved from the table to the desk and took one stick pin away from the shawl making up the curtain over it. It’s the pin in the middle and I’m surprised I didn’t think of it before. It’s just right. I can’t see my house to the right or the neighbor’s to the left, just the tops of the trees. I had to make the move to the desk for my arms, particularly my right. I don’t sit at a comfortable height at the table.

It’s good to switch around.

Last night I slept in my bedroom all night with the door closed. I’m trying to think if this has ever happened. I try to remember if I closed the door in my last house…ever. I don’t think so. We’ve had an open-door culture in our family. I suddenly wonder about this in other people’s homes. I remember it was an act of defiance to shut my door when I was a teen in my parent's home.

Angie’s had a habit of closing her door when she goes to bed. But Henry rooms with her. It all starts when you’ve got kids, I suspect. You leave the door open so you can hear them.

I would have shut mine some in recent years except for Simeon. Usually Sam sleeps on my bedroom floor too. But it’s Simeon who, whenever I’ve been arrogant enough to shut my door against him – even for an hour – has thrown his body against it until you’d think he’s trying to wake the neighbors.

Simeon did not bang last night and the door stayed shut until morning. I’d just woken up and realized it when Sam burst in, which clued me to the fact that it hadn’t been latched tightly. This was even more amazing. Simeon could have come in and didn’t even try. By the time I got out of bed, both cats and Sam were waiting and I led the parade to the kitchen.

It’s so funny how change comes.

I’ve tried shutting the door a few times in recent weeks for going to bed as early as I have. It’s one thing to leave the door open when you’re the last person awake and you’re crawling into the darkness with the house swathed in thick quiet. It’s another to get in bed to read before the rest of the household is down for the night. Then you close the door. The night before Henry burst in after his bath and his mom tried to keep him out, but I was delighted to have him come over with his wet hair and his towel, which he let drop from his naked body. There’s nothing like a grandchild almost ready for bed and doing anything to delay it. He was very sweet and attentive and I got kisses that were like rain as his freshly washed hair dripped onto my face.

There are reasons to open your door and reasons not to.

I know I wrote recently about my friend becoming an elder and me seeing myself reflected in what was happening to her, but it’s more like a turn toward it. Like opening the door to it. Like going to bed when you’re tired or you want to read lying down with a soft light and no noise…and you realize there’s nothing stopping you. That’s part of it anyway. Like switching the locations where you type because your body rebels against the repetition.

Working with the real elders I see the slow acceptance of limitations and new possibilities every day. I guess change is change because it takes some getting used to. I get up early to watch the morning change. The sun is now higher and more gold than orange.