a day to simply be

It is bright but overcast today. It is the Sunday of a long weekend.

The birds are singing, the insects chatting, the rooster was crowing earlier. Even the rascal Zacchi seems to know not to bark today.

There is a calm, a stillness over the valley. I can hear neither cars nor human voices. A lazy blowfly can't decide where to settle so flies from room to room, not hurried, gently taking me back to a corner window in Maru Maru, maybe fifty years ago. Can I really be that old? No, inside I am still young.

The sun comes and goes, teasing a little. Inside, outside... where do I want to be?

I didn't turn on the television, or the radio, or even my music.

I would rather hear the birds, the insects.

I don't think I will study, read or write. I don't think I will go to friends. I think I will sit outside and dream in the beauty of this silence. I think it is a day for me to simply be.