mean times

 The day has started and the light is becoming steadily more grey. The breakfast is finished, and now get up and fetch the remainder of the coffee. 

It starts to rain, the raindrops beat off the skylight and start to drip into the roof drains. Put on a second pot of coffee, there is no point in hurrying up now

Return to the computer, and see that the light is brightening again, the rain is still dripping from the roofs, and there are trails on the windows. It is turning into a grey day, contrary to what was expected, contrary to yesterdays weather forecast.

There is a feeling of weakness, a feeling that age is to blame. Perhaps it is. It is strange to see so many of those whose existence had been taken for granted suddenly vanish, so many seem to be very young, many are somewhat older. Perhaps hearing of the death of erstwhile colleagues, hearing of their sudden illness is having a depressing effect. So many people making assumptions on the years left to them, and so many having faced the tragedy of being utterly wrong.

The weather is brightening again, now that it is fifteen minutes later. A second pot of coffee made, All has been done, and there is still the rest of the day to care for.

The family is asleep, the son, the wife and the cat. None of them are early risers but for the cat, who has gone back to sleep somewhere in the mean time.