the fear of nothing

Something changed while I was not looking.

Not in my surroundings, it's the interior furnishings that have been moved.

I am sitting on the couch at 5:00 AM, Wednesday.

Stretches done. Meds taken. Cat fed. Wait, did I take my meds?

There is still one week of Christmas break remaining.

Coffee wobbles in my cup and slowly stills.

I stare at the poorly stirred turbulence; that is how I feel right now. Still. And separate.

CP24 let's me know that it will be unseasonably warm.

The surprise is missing from the newscaster's voice.

My today has started. The kid's day ended just 5 hours ago. 

Their stomping up the stairs at midnight, briefly startled me awake.

This margin seems to be growing and in retrograde- me rising earlier, them setting later.

I open the back slider, smell the air, and wonder what I expected from this season.

Funny, if 'today' is measured by the rest of the world waking, 'today' is still, like, 3 hours away.

When did I become a pre-sunrise tv watcher and a weather fan-boy? Why?

A week ago I sloshed and bubbled as we hustled to wrap up school.

I was in a cohort of the deflated, claiming rights to a break, fist bumping for a Friday.

Last year, same time,  I said something like 'I will need a whole holiday to get ready for this holiday.'

This year we teleported out of school a day early. 

Announcements of inclimate weather interrupted the bells. 

We pulled the chute and left without the usual Yule tidings to all. 

People slipped and slid as they hustled in excitement across the parking lot. 

Everything was electric, everyone was a raw wire whiplashing on wet road.

And even as dangerous as the black-iced pavement was, the beacon of early dismissal made folks forget their fears of falling.

Now, just now, I struggled to find the name of the day. 

Kinetic energy will eventually come from the coffee. Potential though, is all spent.

Midway through this break and my commute triangulates far too simply- bathroom, bed, couch, kitchen.

My associations hitch far too consistently- cat, son, daughter, spouse.

I write, drink coffee, cook for the family- all purposeful, all through a background noise.

An idea has taken nest in my head. 

Shooing and handwaving has only made it loft higher and higher in the rafters.

It's squawk familiar and fresh at the same time.

'Retirement.'

Is it a question, promise, or threat?

I close the back slider, my cat takes this as a cue. He chirps and runs to his food bowl.

He has already eaten, but I give him a second breakfast anyways.