I was up early, stumbling, as she left for another state’s mountains where there would be snow and inclinations of gravity. I opened the door for her dinosaurs and in turning around to watch the car drive off, I saw the crescent moon’s rounding edges point toward a morning planet, and the two formed a perfect line with a golden jet contrail, like one grand comet, in a tangential direction toward the mountains. The kind of vision that is both happenstantially meaningless and sublimely reinforcing to the valuation theory of early rising.
I spent the rest of the morning in bed, reading a biography. I spent the lunch hour trying not to speak from anger. I spent the sunset on the carpet, nursing another back spasm. Its recurrence might have been related to either of the previous activities.
And then I spent the night with my daily routines, because habits were stronger than resolutions, even when they begin after dark.