I took a leave of absence. Things got crazy, both in real life and in my own mind. It was hard to think clearly and frankly, my heart hurt. Writing is feeling, sorting, being. And it takes effort and energy. I had no energy left over, and all my effort was going into getting through each day. NOTHING left over.
And then as the spiral continues, I wake up one morning and see all the bathing suits and towels on the porch railing. What does that mean? It means summer. It means swimming. It means kids. And suddenly, it means happiness. The heat, the hum of the insects, the faint smell of wet towel and chlorine; they make me happy. They offer proof that we not only get through each day, we cannon ball in the deep end.
The Alzheimer’s is still there. The COPD, the nut allergy, the asthma, the learning disabilities, the family drama, the constipation of life is all still there. And yet, bright blue and pink towels and damp swim suits drape across our porch railing, their fluttering existence proof that we are here, living, being, present.
My leave of absence is over.