Crisp cool California morning
Dogs with twitchy whiskers unlock wild impulses, memories from long ago
Fire, hunger, pack talk, hunt
Smell of coffee breaks the trance
People partners, laughing children padding through the house
No rabbit or antelope today
Wet noses nudging
Bacon and eggs shared
Back to a big warm bed.

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It’s late morning and I lay there, sprawled upon my bed, irritated by the constricting heavy mucous that has taken residence in my chest.  I can hear Herding Stars and The SunGod on the back patio. It’s the barking hour.  A particularly joyous time of day, if you happen to be a dog.

So much for coveting an extra hour or so of sleep.  No matter.  Today I woke up tallying my shortcomings not my successes anyhow.  It’s not a particularly productive past time, but it suits my mood.  This monstrous cold is sweeping me under like a rip current and the whole week feels like a lateral swim against the tide.

My inner critic rails against me.  Is it even possible to fill all the roles I have pronounced upon myself?  Devoted Mother. Dutiful Daughter. Responsive Partner. Competitive Student. Dependable Therapist.  Compassionate Volunteer.  Socially Responsible Woman of Faith. … Dog Mistress….

I close my eyes and argue with this vicious inner cynic for a while. It’s exhausting and I once again seek sleep as a refuge.  Just before I finally drift off I hear Tender Warrior playing outside and I smile.  Perhaps it is possible to be the shoreline, not the swimmer, and let each role shape me instead.