I’ve been productive, not only on the manuscript but alert ot chores etc. Huff, and the chronic semi-chaos of my sleep. This despite some periodic aches in my bursitis hip, even after the cortisone shot bestowed by Dr. First of all, I want to record how good I have felt, the past few days. This entry is one I need to get down, ahead of my re-immersion into cancer drugs, for two reasons: Whatever it takes.įriday the 13th, which I hope misses this household with any bad luck. Maybe it’s fitting that this eve day that closes the year was uneven, this morning a tough slog on the manuscript, but this afternoon I went at it fiercely, adding throughout to the remaining chapters. Just after 7, we walk the neighborhood, the same nearly 2-mile loop we’ve done since, what, 1974? She reads the paper in bed, I fix breakfast - three kinds of dry cereal, our own glorious raspberries and strawberries at this time of year - have mine, and head down here to write.

When Carol awakes I make a mug of tea for her and take in the front section of the NY Times, and if the timing is right, we catch the local weather forecast - often only approximate to what really happens - at 5:07 or so. Mug of coffee, magazine to read or the newspapers if they’ve arrived, while watching the passing castle of light, daily cruise ships that come carelessly ablaze along the still fundamentally dark Sound.

Mornings, I’m awake or at least my unignorable body is by 4:15, and while Carol sleeps in until 5, I get up to the incessant robin song out there in the first hint of daylight. And so I am 73, and amazed at how good I feel about that and everything else… I’ve wanted to get down some details of this gift phase of life, as I see it.

Last Bus to Wisdom by Ivan Doig