Slim Randles' Home Country
Come to us, Daylight. Bring us the new day.
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[September 27, 2014]
There’s something so satisfying about getting out of bed
when the world is still dark and quiet and resting. Making the
coffee gives us time to scratch and think. Well, scratch, anyway.
Most of that thinking will start after about the third cup of
But it’s a quiet time. A private time. When the world is dark,
and there isn’t yet a hint of pink over the eastern mountains, it’s
very good. We can relax. No one is expecting anything from us right
now. Our guilt can take some time off, and we can listen to music or
work a crossword puzzle or turn on the TV and watch the weather guy
discuss millibars and troughs.
Soon enough, we’ll have to be out there living for others: our
bosses, our customers, our animals, our fields. But right now no one
needs us except the dog, and she does well on kibbles and an ear
We can look out the window at the eastern glow and wonder what will
happen in the hours until our world turns dark again. People will be
born and people will die. People will win honors and people will go
to jail. People will create things today that live past them and
people will disappear forever. Some people will write about these
things and other people will read about these things.
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And then the world will go dark on us again and
we’ll think about what happened in our tiny portion of this huge
moving amalgam and hopefully we’ll sleep easily tonight. Then, when
we arise tomorrow and head for the coffee pot, we can think about
what happened today, and how it has made us slightly different for
taking on the next tomorrow.
Come to us, Daylight. Bring us the new day. But do it gently,
please, and slowly enough for one more cup.
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