Mornings

Saturday. 

I pull the bedroom curtains back to reveal more cloud and gloom. At least the rain has stopped. God, I am tired of these sullen skies. I try to remain hopeful of a return to sunny spring. Every morning, I wear my heavy coat and wellies to walk the dogs. The oxygen tank hangs with a strap over my shoulder and plastic tubing goes round my ears with an attachment for my nose. The cold air makes the tubing less pliable and I wrestle with it sometimes to keep it in place. A brief hiss of air precedes every inhalation. My gait is short and slow, deliberately timed to set a beat for the hissing regulator. Three steps then one breath. Thump thump thump hiss. Thump thump thump hiss. I hate mornings. Mornings are hard.