Thursday's Child
Starry Sky .

01.02.2000

Small Miracles

Sun is shinin', the weather is sweet;
Make you want to move your dancin' feet:
To the rescue, here I am!
Want you to know, y'all, where I stand!
-- from Sun is Shining by Bob Marley

It feels strange to sit here and type a new entry, with the new date and the sun shining brightly outside.

A few days ago, I could barely stand, now I am walking about comfortably again. I can speak clearly without pain and I can see without effort.

My head is still a little stuffed and the cough lingers with a slight burning in my lungs, but nowhere near the difficulty of the last ... I don't know how many days. I lost count. Since Wednesday night. Yes. Wednesday night.

That seems an eternity ago.

After the fever and the chills, after the debilitating headache, it's a pleasure simply to sit and breathe quietly at the window with the soft, spring-like air drifting through the screen. It's quite warm down here in Virginia today. Completely unlike winter, with brilliant sun and a gentle breeze and the sound of crows, calling back and forth in the trees.

A cat is curled up on my bare toes, another sits beside me in the other chair. The usual sounds of cars passing by on the road reach me here in the "treehouse" though the tree is bare of leaves, leaving only a skeleton of branches outside the glass pane.

Our helpers are gone now, leaving the apartment sparklingly clean. The carpet is actually off-white again and the mustiness is gone. Everything feels fresh and new and lovely. Everywhere I look there is something to smile at and I am reminded again of the small pleasures, the small miracles of life.

I am still aware of all the things that need to be done, but I know that I will do them, in due time, when my strength has returned. Right now, it is simply wonderful to be able to run my fingers over these keys, to make sentences out of words, craft meaning out of silence.

The dingle of chimes is carried to me now from another balcony, my hair lifts as the wind blows more strongly and Tiger shifts slightly, sprawled in kitty-comfort in the spot of sunlight beneath the desk.

. . . .
Moonlit Trees . .

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