Sunday, July 12, 2015

Convalescing From Surgery

"Mom," Myra says, "if you let Betsy have your hair, she's gonna be like ripping it out of your head." She blinks all seriousness. "She does that to my big hair," she strokes a red puff of hair then grins headlong into my eyes.


"If the plants die, Momma" Joey says, "they turn into tomatoes." He nods with that same assumptive air, then tilts hie head and nods sideways.


"Grrr," I groan. "Grr," I fumble with a water glass and try to smoosh an ant loping just above the couch edge. "Grr, it ran away."

"Yeah," Joe nods. "That is so sad. I was gonna smash it for you." He inhales and forms a sigh that he releases in protective fashion.

"When it comes back up you can get it," I say.

"Yeah, I will squish it really hard," He pinches his fingers together. "Or put it in a web," he says.

"Oh," I say.

"Right over here," he says. He points to a remote corner by the back door.

"Ah," I say. Relegated to the couch, I nod. Recovery is slow, but couch life is a constant drip of intel. I listen and watch and take it all in: our life, our good, good life.


5484. The second surgery, though more painful, seems to be a success.

5485. I learn how truly grateful I am for work. Being still is almost agonizing. The world slows unimaginably.

5486. Myra brings me her blankie.

5487. "I could snuggle with you forever," Jack says.

5487. Lucy kisses my cheek. "I love you," she whispers.

5488. The children move to my beck and call (mostly). They move to fill the gaps. From the microscope of the couch I note children's attitudes that we address and fine tune.

5489. Fresh raspberries.

5490. Browned butter shortbread.

5491. Pizza and salad.

5492. The Dishman Hills Bookclub.

5493. I note a nearly invisible flaw in the blanket I'm knitting and resolve myself to love it anyway.

5494. The garden burgeons with growth despite my absence from it's rows.

5495. I bow my head in gratitude that I get to have this surgery.

5496. I learn to see my children through a new lens. Their personalities crystallize under observation.

5497. We arise in a new week ever more aware that God is GOOD.

1 comment:

  1. "...couch life, a constant drip of intel." The honing of listening. I love that you embrace what life gives you and find the goodness therein. A lovely lens.