It is 60 degrees out here. I am sitting on my front deck. I pulled the tarp off the table and chairs and I brought out one chair cushion. If you’d like to join me, I’ll bring out more. I’m pretending it’s spring, because I need spring. I need sitting on my deck, feeling the fresh air. Waiting for the birds.
To roll in the snow, with those frozen crystals scratching my back, luxuriating in the freedom to roll, to have the sensual pleasure of rolling, to look at those around me when I’m done with that “what?” expression on my face.
I want to sit on my deck and click pictures of the birds. This equation requires birds. They’ll be here soon, and I have filled feeders to welcome them back. I’m waiting. Anxiously.
Husband’s improvement after the surgery for the brain tumor has been overshadowed by the increasing pain – pain caused by the cancer in the back and pelvic bones, by the disc disease in his spine – just discovered. His days now are filled with pain, are filled with enduring the time between doses of pain pills which only reduce the pain small amounts. His days are filled with – life? I think not. I question the treatments meant to prolong life when life is pain. I question. If it were me, I would call a halt. I would not have that radiation for what remains of the brain tumor, the first treatment of which is scheduled for tomorrow. I would cry for pain control, I would cry to be left alone, I would cry to be released. Released.
But it is not me, it is not my decision. I can only sit here, listen to the jays squawking their shrill complaints, sharing the squawks, the discontent, the desire for peace.
This is why I am mainly quiet. This is why I have been reading blogs, but commenting rarely. Because my mood and thoughts are not uplifting, and you do not need downers added to your lives. There are enough of those already.
This will pass. I will work through it. In the meantime, I wish you enough!