It’s well and truly the new year. I know there are some who wipe clean all traces of Christmas within days of the holiday ending. But I haven’t even dismantled the Wee Tree yet. In part because I saw so little of it over the holiday, but mainly because digging in the cupboard for the box that houses our decorations feels fairly impossible right now. The injury I sustained to my ribs on Christmas eve is healing bit by bit. On Friday, exhaustion mixed with pain and tears had me feeling defeated by the magnitude of it all. My attempt to make a simple soup completely flattened me. Then over the weekend, the kids combined their efforts with shopping, food-making (curried lentil soup and Moroccan beef tagine. I’m spoiled.) dishwashing, and overall tender words of encouragement. And today, I feel like I can wrap my brain around my limitations. Even accept them—sort of. The pain has eased its grip and I can finally draw a deeper breath without wincing. Sneezing is disastrous, and coughing best in tiny puffs, but I can feel improvement. And oh god, how I’m looking forward to a good belly laugh! That, and setting foot outside again.
Tea helps. Nourishment helps. Rest helps. Friendly voices help. Last month’s Call The Midwife and Downton Christmas Specials help. And still, an awareness of gratitude helps that much more. Thank you for holding me in your thoughts, in your hearts. I appreciate every single bit of your support.
To the new year. Attraversiamo: Let’s cross over. I’m ready to have my can kicked in a good way.