It's not even 5 a.m. yet.
And (actually) I've been awake for a long time, hovering in that blue state of not sleeping but not wanting to get up either. When I'm well and truly depressed, I don't sleep. I just lie wide-eyed in the dark, dreading everything.
This isn't quite like that. I'm in the grips of a certain melancholy, it's true. But (and this is an odd way to describe it), the melancholy is sweet, too.
A lot of it has to do with my dad, who is working hard to recover from the open heart surgery he had in December. But yes. I see him changing. And it's hard. But the kindness that has always been a part of his character has been distilled into something even more present, more defining. And when I talk to him he is eager to laugh, full of good will. His own father had the same quality in the years before he died.
At the same time my father is aging, I have this two year old granddaughter, who walked into the playroom yesterday I've made for her. She looked around at the toys and "kitchen" and costumes and exclaimed, "I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!"
A moment, I'm sure, that I'll remember as one of the better moments of my life.
All this. In the same day. It's how life happens, right?