Three pools of yellow light... more than enough to fill our studio apartment. A comfortable bottle of wine, poured into a small tumbler because sometimes ceremony is unnecessary. He is sprawled on the sheepskin rug like the Irish Wolfhound he one day hopes to own (we hope)...his face bluely lit with work. Our bellies are full of frittata that finished up the vegetables from last week's groceries. Moments before our bellies were laughing from a slyly slapstick British tv show... it's sheer goofiness delightfully overlaid with unsmiling humor.
I suppose it's normally called balance but rhythms make much more sense. The little rituals that simply fall into place. Like a weekly shopping trip that turns into a weirdly romantic evening spent strolling arms about each other's waist meandering through the aisles of whole foods. Pausing to actually finish our coffee in our half circle tower of a breakfast corner. Or working side by side in our various pools of light on a Tuesday evening in the little studio on Grove Street. Whenever we move we hiccup around a bit before the rhythm falls in place. And this move is no exception... especially getting used to several part time jobs rather than working full time. But now my schedule is more set and I have a few nicely wide open stretches where I can blog and work on my other project!