It finally came.
The illness. It's not surprising. But what is, is how good it feels to just be sick.
I have not been sick since Art was re-diagnosed in January. Mind over body, man!
I have not wanted to be sick, I would not tolerate illness. There was too much to do, to take care of, to work through to get sick.
And now, 5 1/2 months after his death, 9 1/2 months after his diagnosis I am letting my body win.
It's time to purge the stuff. With a blow of my nose I shed an old habit. With a cough I release a anxiety, with the fever I sweat out the staleness, the stuff that keeps me in fear. I release some of the grief within the entire cold.
And I am grateful to stay in my pjs today. I am grateful to not put on make-up or clothes. I am glad to soothe the kids with my confidence, for they are scared. "What happens to us when you get sick?" Langston asked, Pallas and Ezra turning to listen to my response. I smiled. "We have a ton of frozen food and friends who will bring us things if we need it. Don't worry too much, sweetheart. We are supported."
And they turn and go back to their new normal life, seemingly satisfied and reassured with my response.
I raise my water to you, sickness. To the freedom you are granting me today. To giving me time to just sit and nap and watch movies or to do nothing at all!
I too can be just like Scarlet O'Hara!
I will think about that tomorrow... or the day after!