I have a scratchy throat, teary eyes, drippy nose, and an inordinate need to sleep. I’m an impatient patient. Being sick feels like a violation of the Puritan work ethic. How can I take the time to recuperate when there is so much to be done?
But today I didn’t go to Zumba, waitress at the Waffle Shop at church, meet with my covenant prayer partner, work on a book, nor will I go to book club tonight. The world has not fallen apart with my temporary absence. Probably no one has even noticed. I don’t say this out of self-pity, but just in an effort to be “right-sized.”
I get a cold once every three years, usually in February. I wonder if this is some sort of triennial Lenten gift–a way to slow down and take a corporeal sabbath. This morning I tried to catch up on some work-type reading in bed, but fell asleep. I woke at 2 PM, took a shower, and went to a El Mezcal, a local restaurant, for Sopa de Pollo–yummy chicken-rice soup with fresh avocado on top. Except for an absence of hugs and kisses, this is way better convalescent fare than my mother offered with beef boullion and Cherry Jello.
But now I’m tired again and ready for another nap. Maybe I’ll just say thank-you for the time apart, the chicken soup, and the cosmic hugs and kisses I’m feeling from on High.
Sybil MacBeth ©2010
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