I toss and turn, unable to sleep and rise to put on the kettle.
The newspaper lies open on the table. Military friction in Korea. Talk of the collapse of Europe. Numbers showing that we have learnt nothing, Canada heading for a real estate debacle similar to our neighbours to the South. Stocks crashing. Recession, depression. The end of the world as we know it.
The kettle whistles and a pour myself a cup of tea, slip on my nightgown and step outside.
The spring air hits me with a breath of freshness. It fills my lungs with smells of flowers and trees, of green living things.
Geese fly, honking, over the horizon with the rising sun. They skim low over the water, their wings buzzing and skid to a stop on the glassy lake. Schools of fish break the surface in search of breakfast. A kingfisher splashes then flies up to perch on a branch, squawking at his missed opportunity. A squirrel, high in a cedar chatters in reply while an otter paddles for shore, unconcerned, ripples extending in a ‘v’ behind him.
I take a sip of my tea, the sun warming my face, and smile. Maybe things aren’t as black and white as on the pages of a newspaper.