This will sound weird, but it’s a revelation for me… an affirmation perhaps. Or a reminder. The pain waxes and wanes. Comes and goes. If (when) it comes back after you declare yourself painfree, it’s not a failure. It’s not necessarily a step back. Recovery is a process. Just one big giant process.
You know, like with knitting, with the tinking and the frogging and the forward progress.
The weight loss (happily) continues apace, and I’ve finally been able to wear something other than that now-way-too-big pair of army green cropped pants I bought from Old Navy for 99 cents. I wore them almost every day for three months… I think I got my money’s worth, thank you.
Of course, the sleeping lately has been ridiculous. I can sleep on the sofa without even trying, a skill that normally eludes me. And the walking, I’m walking. Finally. Not yet doing the early-morning walking that I really should be doing, I don’t yet feel well enough to have that much go power that early. But walking. I’m walking. I was able to walk a couple miles today without too much trouble. And that’s good.
Smelling? What a revelation. Did you know that rain smells muddy? I didn’t, not before yesterday. I don’t even remember the last time I had a sense of smell; it eluded me for a decade. Maybe two. Muddy and clean and loamy and sweet. That’s the smell of rain at the apartment.
The flower at the top? That’s from my grandfather’s rose bush. He’s been gone almost two years now, and yet, this bush, it persists. Thrives. It’s the order of things, after all. Hope, in a jar.
