The sky shook my shoulders and whispered: "Open your eyes before you miss me."
Despite my body wanting to stay in bed, on a slow Sunday morning, I followed Sky's advice and absorbed the beauty of the changing light.
We need these moments of Ah. At least, I know I do.
Especially when my head throbs, and my energy ebbs, and I haven't felt like myself in months. I can hear the bacon sizzling but I can't smell it. I get dizzy walking up our driveway. At the end of a busy work day, I sit in my office, unable to think clearly about the tasks I need to accomplish to prepare for the next day. Even packing up to go home feels like too much work.
I find myself staring at nothing, no thoughts, a grey outline of my former self, filled with nothing but air where my stamina and creativity once lived. The color long gone.
It's fair to say I fall into the category of long Covid, considering I contracted the virus in October. And yet I've also had knee surgery in November, after rupturing my ACL, and so my normal active routine has been doubly disrupted and its hard to know if my lack of energy stems from Covid-19 or my lack of movement.
I also recently returned from a whirlwind cross country trip to visit my parents in Florida, from Thursday to Monday, my return flight re-routed, delayed, arriving in Anchorage in the middle of the night, and still working Tuesday-- just writing about it makes me tired.
And yet it was so nice to spend a few quality days with my Mom and Dad. Just me. No kids. I slid back into the role of daughter, with multiple beach walks and meals together, conversations without interruptions. No one's needs to tend to besides my own.
Warm weather. No down jackets, no gloves, no hats. No snow and ice to navigate with my surgically repaired knee. No starting the car before leaving the house, no scraping the windshields, no avalanches blocking the road.
Just my Mom, my Dad, and me.
The earth has orbited the sun over eighteen times since I last visited my parents alone, without my family. Eighteen times too many.
In Florida, the sky also called my name in the morning, shook my shoulders and whispered: "Open your eyes before you miss me."
Instead of boots I donned bare feet and watched the sun rise from the horizon instead of over mountain peaks.
Same star, thousands of miles apart.
Whether I stand on the shore of the Atlantic or above Resurrection Bay, I always watch spellbound as the sun transforms the morning, and me, for a moment, making me forget my body's ailments, my endless worries, the world's woes, and see only the beauty of the awakening day.
Now if only I could capture the energy of the painted sky to fuel me during all the mundane black and white moments in-between.
If only I could remember the light.
If only I could remember...
Lovely post ❤️ I’m so glad you got some time to yourself with your parents, even if it required a lot of energy.
Such gorgeous sunrises!
Posted by: Candice | 03/01/2022 at 08:01 PM