Healing Time

The week ahead is  not filled with  places to be or  things to do---at least.  I finally have some space and as luck (my luck) would  have it, I am fighting a small chest cold.  I think my body waits until it knows I can focus on the discomforts of an illness before attacking the germs with the lymph glands to fight the good fight.  Lungs are my  precious weak organ.  My joints repair, my muscles release their strains, my stomach rarely finds itself  in battle with some cellular being, but my lungs open each little  elastic sac to do battle like an eager puppy dog and as the dead germs pile up, I spend the night coughing up their little bodies.  Yes, it is not a pleasant image.  But is it not true that you get sick just after completing some major tasks?

On the glass is  half full side, I went shopping last week and replaced my 10-year-old worn pillow and amazingly am getting better sleep now!

It is a very mild illness and only inconvenient during these days when the nights are pretty cold and the days not much warmer.  Spring is a dyslexic tease painting everything lime green and filling the air with familiar fragrances but keeping an icy wind at your throat reminding you it is in charge.  Hubby had planted flats of tomatoes and they have all had to be removed from the outside mini greenhouses and brought inside the house once again.  He is this optimist every year that gets smacked back by the weather, except this  year he is gone and I  am getting smacked.

I am reading books (Robert Harris's An Officer and a Spy,  Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot by Kim Baker and Bird Cloud, A Memoir of a  Place by Annie Prouix) the last of the three is by far the best.  I  am a pig when it comes to literature and cannot be patient just reading one book.

It is just past 4:00 A.M. and I cannot go back to sleep and so have made myself some hot honey and tea to sooth the  lungs.  The heater is still on and the tapping as the duct-work expands is the only sound in the bedroom.  But in just days I am sure the windows will be open and the songs of birds will arrive once again to my bedroom as dawn breaks.  Patience.

In the mean time, between times, I will select the Kindle or the book and go back to Paris during he war or to Wyoming in the spring and get lost in space and time while my body heals.