Roots

In true page-turner style, the night before heart surgery,
I was rain-checked.

For a good month, I gnawed at this news like an old bone,
waited to hear if the docs would favor heart surgery after all,
or have me remain in this temporary place of not-quite-well.

 
What can we do when things aren't all better?
How can we meet the sacred in illness,
in poverty, in sadness,
in our imperfect selves?
 
Drink tea. Read good fiction. Take bubble baths.
Go outside and watch clouds.
And then, take a serious look around. 

Ill or not,  I am rich!

clean water. warm home. books.
food. literacy. art.
paint.

waves on the beach. limitless sky. stars. 

music. beauty. family.

love.
I could recount these riches all day.

Even ill, I am abundantly well.
 
I haven't been able to write.
That's the outlet that's suffered most since the stroke.
I'm tired, dizzy, and struggle with an aching head.
My dear friend Margaret Bloom of We Bloom Here
sent a breeze of wisdom my way,
likening this time to winter.
Sometimes leaves dry up and branches are stark,
but roots still go deep. 
 
Every time we struggle, may the roots go deep.
to grow us in compassion.
to grow us in perspective.
to grow us in steadiness,
and light.

What do we do with our troubles?
Find the gifts in front of us.

Even in our troubles,
there is sacred to be found:
laughter, forgiveness, grace, love.

Here's to deep roots and good dirt, my friends.

Epilogue:
I finally made peace with this middle ground,
and the next day: news!
Heart surgery is back on.

Friday, November 8, here we come!

Feel-good books:

Violet Mackerel's Remarkable Recovery,
by Anna Branford, ill. by Elanna Allen

(Thank you for the get-well-read, Margaret Bloom !)

The Mighty Lalouche, by Matthew Olshan and Sophie Blackall

Tea Rex, by Molly Idle

!, by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Tom Lichtenheld

A Sick Day for Amos McGee,
by Philip C. Stead, ill. by Erin E. Stead