Observations

On the more beautiful mornings I can look out the top pane of my window, which doubles as my headboard, and without my glasses I can see a beautiful quilt of color. The bright blues poking past the deep, shadowy green of the far, high leaves on the cottonwoods, the dawn yellow and gold glowing among the purple, teal, and azure that are sunrise, plum leaves, and blue mountains slowlyletting go of the night down low. Each color is a piece of the quilt, and with my optic limitations each one looks like the hexagons that grandma made from her old dresses for the quilt on my boy's bed. All the shapes are the same, and the colors mix together in a pattern that would never reveal the secret the trees want to keep in the backyard.

I haven't given up the comfort of the bed to fetch a brush and paints. I love to just watch the light twinkle among the leaves, to pick out shades of color that I know will disappear if I put on my glasses. I don't think I have a brush that will help me copy what I see, so I just keep looking out the window and try to memorize it, try to paint it in my heart so it can speak to me any time, so I can gaze in and see those pretty colors.

I am glad to be alone in the moment. Though sharing it would increase the magic, would another chose to share my vision, or would it be overshadowed by other needs, other wants? It seems like too much to ask, for someone to allow my moments without giving up his own. I don't understand how it could possibly work. Marriage seems like a very unworkable game. I suppose there is still a lot I have not experienced, and do not understand. I will try to be patient and wait - there are certainly things about a man that I miss. Will the rules ensure that it will be all or nothing? Attachment or the single life? I don't want to attach. But I'd like to touch. I don't really care much about the rules.