“Oh, Stephanie. It could always be worse!” I can be – I know it is hard to imagine – the worst of worst patients, a whining, complaining ninny.
An observer would have noted the moment of instantaneous recognition between the two of us. Between the mutual tears, he told me a story of my father I had not heard before..
With the righteousness of a workday’s exhaustion, my mind ran through litanies of gratitude to the universe for anything and everything.
“You. You are light…I am, oddly now, dark..”
As I chase the sun in a daily tandem race with time, I have this dream for myself…and another one too…a selfish desire, no doubt, or maybe one of the best of human miracles.
My twelve year old soul, delighted in the thought of an evenings swim, pizza and snowstorms.. My fifty-five year old shoulders still ached six days later. I had forgotten the sensations of swimming…
February 3, 2021 If I typed the word ‘um’ a thousand times, would that help my writer’s mind? Would it… Read more A Woman’s Diary, “Orchids”
1/21/2021 Thursday. For how many of you, is buying a calendar an annual event? Yes, I actively enter my activities,… Read more A Woman’s Diary of Sorts.
Maybe awareness is the secondary gift from the pandemic to me personally. Gift number one is my family’s health. Gift number two, “up my efforts” on my own health. And hit those body goals, head on…