Mini-Not-So-Update: haven't been able to focus on things, including my first panic attack in months last week. Dad's extremely sick and Covid is clogging up the procedure rooms, so we're waiting and waiting and every day seems worse. He looks horrible. Also, if fucktards could stop assaulting government buildings, that would be nice. Do want to get back at it and feel the urge to write growing, so here's hoping!
Let's let Vicky bring some positivity into the world, shall we?
*work in progress, subject to change, copyrighted by me Richard Raley, please don't copy and paste, etc*
Isn’t morning just the best part of one’s day?
Waking up was just…divine!
That slow languid crawl to consciousness as your mind pulled back the gossamer threads of slumber, the rays of pleasant dreams bouncing all about your brain as they faded like a best friend’s goodbye, until next should you meet. The bed so soft and fluffy you could sink into it forever and ever. The sheets silky and cool on your skin. The blanket heavy at your waist, reassuring that if you grew too cold it could warm you in seconds, all the way to a toasty serene cocoon, trying to keep the moment of full wakefulness at bay, holding on to those dreams for but a few minutes more.
Then when consciousness was fully upon you the experience only blossomed and bettered itself. You are you. You are alive. You are loved. For beside you the love of your life snores ever so slightly and in complete contentment that he too is with you. Oh, Tyson, what a lovely evening we had!
