Old chairs sitting around.
Pale blue hints of grey.
Waiting around without wanting to...
Waiting while thoughts get in the way.
Eight weeks is not a lifetime, though ample time to think about whatever decides to take up residence in ones mind.
I am not usually one to feel moody, or carried away with un-reined emotions... though a combination of things in the last few days (Fall, shattered wrist, operation, anesthesia, Sacha's leaving for college, French Husband's helping him settle in these last few days, realization that my hand might not be the same as before....) have left me somber, and a bit unsettled. I don't care much for these feelings of 'weepiness'... even if they are normal and expected, they seem ridiculous given in the world of misfortune, and disappear, what has happened to me is utterly trivial.
But here I am with stacks of everything one could need and want to recuperate in spoiled comfort... and I feel guilty... receiving is not an easy thing to do.
The other day as I was wheeled into the operating room, a team of nurses and doctors gathered around preparing to heal me. I said to them, "I never imaged that I would be here today." A nurse wearing full green garb said, "Nobody who has an accident ever does."
A split second later I drifted under with that thought... "Nobody ever does."
We are a seed in the cycle of life believing we can set our course, but today I am reminding that life is a gift, a beautiful, challenging, a sacred gift.