Our family had a routine, a schedule we'd follow each and every day that starts the moment we opened our eyes, much like everyone else on the planet. Usually, I'd be a part of it too, but I've already strayed too far from what's considered the status-quo to even keep up with it now.
One by one, I could see and hear the schedule being adhered to by everyone else inside the house. The clamoring in the kitchen, the creaking of the floorboards. By now, as well, I rightly should be making my way to the sheep pen, and letting them all out to graze.
Instead, I lingered there still, exploring the nippy air around my house with searching hands. My joints sore, my arms heavy, feeling and failing to even dig an inch through the rippling, shifting invisible wall in front of me.