[first in a three-part series of reflections during an illness]
~ I must have my foot caught in a bear trap and the pry bar just out of my reach, before I will ask for help. And then, it’s just to hand me the pry bar. I’ll get my own damn foot out, thank you very much. This tendency may be my greatest weakness.
~ If I have a stroke while in the tub, and still have one working hand and can speak–I have identified three friends who would come over, drain the tub, dry me off and pull on yoga pants and a T-shirt before they called the paramedics, so I won’t have to leave the house naked. It’s good to know who these people are ahead of time.
~ Usually we are too busy to notice how the quality of light changes throughout the day from the same point of view. And how consistently beautiful it is. Or how soft the fur on a house cat. Or how comforting the vibration of a purr on an aching chest. There is a sweetness to the innocent observation of the world. It is astonishingly beautiful and ever-changing.