Jan 3, 2017

I miss feeling productive. Today has been another sick day for three out of the four people in the house and I’m feeling it in more ways than one. I find myself daydreaming about having the energy to get up and move around and go on walks and jump in the air, or even just get something done. Instead I’ve spent the entire day laying on the couch watching shows as the hours tick by, reminding myself over and over that this is just a phase, not who I am.

Sometimes life repeats itself in ways that aren’t fun, but at least familiar. I wouldn’t wish a month of sick days on anyone, but there’s something to be said for having been here before and being able to hold onto that real hope that things will get better, pregnancy will end in a new baby, and winter will turn to spring. Some seasons come predictably, staying for about four months a year and then moving on to the next. Some come more often, some less.

In the quiet hours on the couch I imagine myself cutting fabric for a new quilt, surrounded by all the colors. Taking brisk walks around the neighborhood and saying yes to the park. Seeking out opportunities to escape and explore. Not watching tv for weeks. Going to bed tired from a day fully spent. Trying new things. Doing a horrible job painting, but feeling good about it anyway. Using the glue gun. The garden trowel. The hose. Sprinting the stairs instead of hobbling up and down them. Clear head, clear skies, bright horizons.

Those days will come back.

In the mean time, I’ll keep doing my best. Not to throw up. Not to skip meetings. To get dressed, even if it’s not until after five o’clock. To do more than just watch the clock and hope for better days, but to find things, however small, to enjoy about these days too. Like watching Olivia watch “The Wizard of Oz” for the first time. Or the way Felix says, “Can I just snuggle with you?” And Bryan’s unrelenting care for all of us. This time we have together.

It’s what we’re here for–what we long for–whatever season we’re in.