Yesterday marks nine weeks of living with this mysterious, persistent sinus infection. I think I’m finally edging around the corner to where real health is in sight. I am hopeful, anyway
I’ve thought that before, but it feels truer (more true?) now.
And the list of things I’ve missed out on in those nine weeks? That’s a long list.
I’ve spent some time feeling sorry for myself. I’ll admit that. I’ve also made a point to notice what I can of beauty and joy and light – to keep on noticing.
A few weeks ago, numb with fatigue, I stared out the window. A flit of movement caught my eye: a hummingbird darted in to visit the apple tree, even before there were proper blossoms on it – just little dabs of highlighter pink, where buds were beginning to emerge.
In the bustle of an ordinary healthy day, I might have missed that.
The clouds haven’t helped. We aren’t having a typical Junuary, as we sometimes do in the Northwest, but it’s still pretty grey.
Yesterday, I parked a block away from the office for yet another doctor’s visit. Walking that block, I passed a dogwood tree so full of pink blossoms that it pushed its way out into the sidewalk, the branches heavy and wide.
Even in my fog, I could not miss this.
I promised myself that if it wasn’t raining when I came out, I’d go back to the car for my camera. (I’m carrying it every day again, in response to this.)
It wasn’t raining.
Today the sun is out again. It looks like it might be a lovely summer day. When the clouds come back – and they will – I know these memories of pink dogwoods will be a comfort to me.