The sunny afternoon light reveals the cobwebs in the corners of the room. Suddenly I can see things I couldn't before--a stack of papers on the desk, the missing TV remote wedged in the sofa. And me, now looking like an old lady in the mirror.
What else have I missed in the past three and a half years since my husband died? He was the light of my life. It's as if I were sleepwalking through my life all that time. I stayed busy with work, fell in love with my new grandson. Ate and slept. I don't remember much else about this blurry time as the oobwebs started accumulating in my head and in my house.
Today sunlight inspires me to sweep up the dust and put everything in order. No cobwebs in the corners of the room or my mind. After being laid low for so long, I'm basking in the sunshine once more. Life is good.
— Suztek
What else have I missed in the past three and a half years since my husband died? He was the light of my life. It's as if I were sleepwalking through my life all that time. I stayed busy with work, fell in love with my new grandson. Ate and slept. I don't remember much else about this blurry time as the oobwebs started accumulating in my head and in my house.
Today sunlight inspires me to sweep up the dust and put everything in order. No cobwebs in the corners of the room or my mind. After being laid low for so long, I'm basking in the sunshine once more. Life is good.
— Suztek
Great, vivid story of that transition from living with the cobwebs to moving beyond the cobwebs. "...basking in the sunshine once more...."
ReplyDeleteThe awakening. With a description of the sleep that preceded it. Rip Van Suztek. Welcome back. (Macoff)
ReplyDelete