I’m staying with my friends Lydia, Lore and Baziel for three days, in Maarkedal.

I didn’t sleep well last night.  I wonder if it was because the road outside my window was silent.  (The Oudburg in Gent is anything but.)

Lydia, Baziel and I went shopping this morning and I tried lightening the festivities by sneaking special items into the cart, such as incontinence pads.  (Don’t laugh, Bruce.  Your time may well be coming.)

Even as we enjoyed each other’s presence, my body was sagging.  And my head was dull.  Homeward bound …

I walked into the living room and there sat the leather couch.  It was Lydia’s late husband Jo’s favourite spot to snooze.  I miss my dear friend, who died in October, 2022.

“What’s good enough for Jo is good enough for me,” I thought.  I found an orange blanket and pulled it over my body.  Got rid of my glasses and lumpy wallet … and was gone.  I guess I woke up here and there, savouring the softness, but essentially it was one-and-a-half hours before I returned to the planet.

The equation is simple:

I’m tired  =  Go to sleep

None of those tedious judgments about it being 1:30 pm or the oldness of the body.  Just sleep … like Jo.

At one point, I turned my head to the right and saw the blur of a tree – a gorgeous oval, bare of leaves.  A bird flew sideways and landed on a branch.  And the eyelids closed once more.

***

Now I’m vertical again

Tapping away

Happy in the moment

And recalling the sweetness of rest