I’ve been reading a terrific book
about circumstance, homelessness
strength, endurance and
in the end, the
one foot in front of the other kind of
walking
also, the healing nature of
nature
and of love
as I read, I have felt myself to a much
much
lesser degree, struggling along
through the elements
while the author and her husband find themselves
in quite a desperate situation
and begin a 630-mile walk along the
South West Coast Path
of England,
I myself sit (reasonably) comfortable in my
chair by the window
struggling in my own way (as I do)
through the grey, cold wintry days
trying still to breathe freely
through sinuses perpetually blocked
dry mouth
crinkled up arthritic fingers, and a face
that has fully broken out once again in a terrific mess of
spots
(now have I indulged for several weeks,
in a steady diet of left over Christmas sweets…
why do you ask!?)
however, I have found
that reading about walking in the elements
while sitting snug indoors
in late bitterly cold January
is just as comforting and hope-filled
as is reading
about flower gardens in winter
these few months, where my love and I
are truly on opposite schedules
and skies are dull
can prove to be rather dismal at times
but here too runs my undercurrent
of
joy
in noticing each day, how very much I do love
our house
maybe not so much by some glossier standards
but the comfort, that comes in the history stored
in the bones of a very old house
do for me have a true feeling of
being
held
in noticing throughout the day
how much I
miss
my husband,
when time together is limited
as well as how very proud I am of him
always, in his dedication
to a job he loves
great anticipation for the coming of
spring
and plans to once again
making things
flourish
in feeding the birds,
smiling broadly at the sun
marveling at the bright beautiful moon
and noticing
things to be
grateful for
and looking tenderly, instead of critically
at the mirror as I pass
and whispering again
softly
that I
am here
to love you ♥