Perfect Love
Yesterday's general malaise has a trite explanation: it seems I was coming down with a cold. I felt like the inside of a garbage can this morning. Chills, aches, sore throat, P-N drip, ears popping like bubble wrap. I tossed and turned all night, and finally came downstairs at about 5:30 a.m. I wrapped myself in a pink blanket, crawled onto the couch and watched the cobwebs shimmy in time to the ceiling fan. Tegan jumped onto my legs and rested her snuffly nose on my belly. I'd like to know who gave her the idea that a 40-pound sheltie/shepherd mix is a suitable lap dog! At first I thought she was trying to make me feel better, but I soon figured out she was there to let me pet her. Man's best friend, my ass.
Anyway, Mom came out and told me to take the day off from the stables. As if that wasn't blessing enough, Dad went to the store and got me my comfort foods: ginger ale and chicken noodle soup. I went back upstairs to rest. Andy kissed me good-bye and wished me better before he left for class. He turned the vaporizer on. Mom came up later to check on me. She tucked me in all fluffy and stroked my hair until I fell asleep again. I woke up feeling a little less garbage can and a little more human.
Yes, I'm almost thirty-five. I know I'm too old to let a cold knock me out like that. I'm an adult, right? Man up and soldier on, as my sister would say! And I know that when we have kids of our own we won't get a break to be sick, and god help us if we're ill at the same time. I know all that, and I'm still not ashamed to be babied when I feel crappy. I love that it happens. The little girl in me still craves being tucked in up to her chin and given Campbell's MMM-MMM Good and ginger ale with a bendy straw. I'll be eighty, and I'll still want that.
The moments are few when you can actually surrender to sickness, pain or despair, knowing that you will be cared for. The last time it happened, I'd just lost a baby and was facing emergency surgery. It was such a relief to not be in control, to let others handle the details. At these moments, I recognize how blessed I am. I have people in my life -- not just a few, but many -- who love me with Perfect Love. I call and they answer. Always. No mere cold could be a match for that.
Ebola, however...
Anyway, Mom came out and told me to take the day off from the stables. As if that wasn't blessing enough, Dad went to the store and got me my comfort foods: ginger ale and chicken noodle soup. I went back upstairs to rest. Andy kissed me good-bye and wished me better before he left for class. He turned the vaporizer on. Mom came up later to check on me. She tucked me in all fluffy and stroked my hair until I fell asleep again. I woke up feeling a little less garbage can and a little more human.
Yes, I'm almost thirty-five. I know I'm too old to let a cold knock me out like that. I'm an adult, right? Man up and soldier on, as my sister would say! And I know that when we have kids of our own we won't get a break to be sick, and god help us if we're ill at the same time. I know all that, and I'm still not ashamed to be babied when I feel crappy. I love that it happens. The little girl in me still craves being tucked in up to her chin and given Campbell's MMM-MMM Good and ginger ale with a bendy straw. I'll be eighty, and I'll still want that.
The moments are few when you can actually surrender to sickness, pain or despair, knowing that you will be cared for. The last time it happened, I'd just lost a baby and was facing emergency surgery. It was such a relief to not be in control, to let others handle the details. At these moments, I recognize how blessed I am. I have people in my life -- not just a few, but many -- who love me with Perfect Love. I call and they answer. Always. No mere cold could be a match for that.
Ebola, however...
posted by Tierant at Wednesday, December 08, 2004
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