howling of a wild boar

I have watched as the week has danced me by, leaving not enough time for breath or thought. Ultrasounds followed by the once dreaded MRI and then set the migraines and they continue to dig roots so that the voice of joy I yearn for is difficult to listen to even from a distance. The leftovers have been tossed and conversations continue, sometimes, as they should.

Now, Winter approaches and will bid me a hello later this evening and in to tomorrow. I hear the velocity of the wind and watch as Ashley awakens, looks around and falls back to sleep with my reassurance 'it's only wind through the windows that sounds like a wild boar...only wind. '