I wake up slowly, sweeping away an early morning dream. I stretch my feet; the leg cramps slide away. I slowly get up and sit on the side of the bed. Tentatively, I check my “tennis elbow” arm;  yup, it still hurts. I test my blood sugar – too high. Methodically I ready two insulin pens and complete the injections. I count out my pills:  eight this morning, two this noon, and four tonight. 

People around me are waking up.  The washing machine in the next apartment is grinding away. The gruff bark of the dog in the apartment below challenges everything that moves on the street below me. I hear mourning doves cooing a call and response. Other birds twitter and chirp as they do their morning fly-by and settle on a roof peak or huddle in leafy branches.

I make the bed and then gingerly sit back down on it – old backs don’t like making beds! Another day has begun. What awaits me today? How will Fred feel? Did he sleep much last night? Will he be able to eat today? Will the “garden” on the balcony sprout more buds and blossoms? Will the new debut novel from the library be a page-turner? What has president Trump tweeted while I slept? Will I find inspiration for a blog post as the day goes by? Does my newly graduated granddaughter like her summer job? What’s the best way to organize the class I am teaching in the fall? What can I write to Marina (15-year-old Compassion child) in Burkina Faso to strengthen her faith and bring inspiration to her day?

I stand up, checking my balance as I rise. Enough musing! It’s time to make breakfast. It’s going to be another ordinary, extraordinary day. “God’s in His heaven – All’s right with His [and my] world” (Robert Browning, Pippa Passes).