Maybe in summer when it's too hot to be outside, I’ll clean up this office. Heavy-lifting cleaning. Sorting stacks of Crinum books that didn't sell, organizing the toolbox full of colored pencils, and deciding what to do with the tower of dead electronics.
At 5 am today, the clutter on the dining room table desk seems soft and harmless. By 7 a.m., I had to push it aside.
Monday, home office day, started with writing in the dark. Actually, it started in bed. Head-spinning anxiety woke me. I stabilized by telling myself to choose one garden design. "Just one. Immerse yourself, look at pictures, spec plants, make spreadsheets, and draw. Wrap it up.”
Before that bit of logic calmed me, before I really woke up, a wreck of projects and promises ran through my head. Coming cold next week? The emerging cosmos need frost cloth. Cold? Momma’s out of seasoned firewood. It's the first of the month? Invoices and sales reports are due. Ask the accountant to file for an extension. I must have been grinding my teeth. From somewhere in my back, a velvet warming cloak unfolded, covered my head, massaged my scalp, and soothed me.
That's when I actually woke up with Tom, spooning. He put his hands on my head before he got up to make the coffee.
Sweet man. Later this morning, around 8 am. when I'm deep in my zone, he’ll say, ‘Do you want me to print that master plan draft for you?” Before the lunch time zoom with a bookmarking guy, Tom will bring a tuna salad sandwich. About 4 pm., when I'm wrapping up the garden design of the day, he’ll start packing, so we’re ready when it’s time tomorrow to get firewood and frost cloth set up.
In the summer, when it’s too hot to be outside, Tom will find a place in the attic for that stack of old electronics that I’m unable to throw away.
Writing, design, and drawing requires focus, isolation, and pretending I’m alone. I couldn't pretend without Tom’s soothing support.