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Just What I Needed
February 18, 2005
A friend of mine who I haven't seen in a long time stopped by last night with the gift of flowers. It was just what I needed. Earlier in the evening, I was accused of being a self-absorbed woman in dire need of a "miracle" in my life. Does this sound like the voice of love? It made me cry, doubt myself, wonder if he was right. Perhaps he was.
All I know is that after months of agonizing through the Swamp of Illness, I am slowly and carefully emerging on the shores of wellness again. This has taken quite a bit of self-care and introspection, which I can see has led me to be neglectful at times when I should not have been. I think I've said it here before... I have no clue what I'm doing, and the older I get, the more I know that I know absolutely nothing about anything.
Just hours later, these flowers appeared in front of me as an act of kindness in response to the news that my pituitary tumor appears to have gotten smaller. I didn't tell the flower-bearer someone so selfish as me couldn't possibly deserve such a nice gift. Instead, we caught up on the months that have slipped by without seeing each other. It was a celebration.
It was just a small miracle, but as someone pointed out, I need all the miracles I can get.
Thank you, Flower-Bearer
Posted by vincent at February 18, 2005 11:36 AM
Comments
Sounds like you've really had a rough patch! Sometimes all it takes is a dear friend to help us feel normal... and loved.
I hope you are feeling better... and that your melancholy disappears along with that pituitary tumor.
Best, Jen
Posted by: Jen at February 18, 2005 12:16 PM
Love After Love
By Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
And say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was yourself.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit.
Feast on your life.
Posted by: john at February 18, 2005 02:00 PM