I write these words from bed. The sheets are powder soft, clouded around my limbs. The pillows are robust behind me. A coy January sun slips through the window. A tray is balanced beside me. On it, there is an array of pastries. A vast cappuccino. A tall glass of juice. Fresh-squeezed. I sip daintily, alternating between hot and cold, careful not to spill on my raw silk nightgown. I nibble on the corner of a croissant and stare at something. The single flower beside me. Humble and stunning. From him. Shedding petals of possibility. The pedicure I'm getting as I write this tickles. But in a good way.
I kid. Boy, do I kid.
I am writing these words from bed. The sheets are soaked with sweat and tangled around me. The pillows are sad and deflated from ruthless overuse. There are a few things in bed with me. Two types of phone. A remote. An ear thermometer. And a fantastic book. Full of words from a wise woman and new friend. Full of reminders and clues about something we all covet and crave. My hair is knotted. I should really change these pajamas. The sun outside mocks me. Reminds me of a world I have not seen in several days.
I am sick, kids.
Apparently, it's my time for swine.
I have spent the past few months utterly petrified of this H1N1 monster and it seems he has crept up on me. But, alas, I'm on the mend. I am taking Tamiflu and things are looking up. But I am still lying down. And I am not very good at lying down. In fact, I'm quite bad at it. Terrible, actually.
Once upon a time, I was pretty good at lying down. An expert. But now? Not so much. I have spent the past four days heeding the advice of my doctor and my Husband, technically lying down, but not quite resting. This is pretty much how my days have gone: Wake up. Take a Tamiflu with Gatorade. Email. Text. Check email. Text. Take my temperature. Text. Email. Read a chapter. Take my temperature. Take it again. Text Husband my temperature. Read a chapter. Repeat until it's time to take another Tamiflu. Go to bed.
So, I am thankful that today I've been able to mix it up a bit. To add "write a blog post" to the mix.
In all honesty, it's been a really rough couple of days. Days where I've been forced to stay away from the ones I love. I was not able to revel with friends on New Year's Eve or kiss Husband at midnight. I was not able to hug Toddler on her third birthday. I was not able to attend Toddler's much-anticipated pajama and pizza birthday bash which she and I so carefully planned. These past several days have been filled with fat tears and high fevers and all kinds of metaphorical and physical ache. And I will fill you in. I promise.
In all honesty though, it's been a really wonderful couple weeks. Important weeks filled with breath and laughter and love, discernment and discovery. And I will fill you in. I promise.
But for now, I must curl up and roll over and bury my forehead and frustrations in my limp and loyal pillow. But this time, I will do so with a smile.
Because it's a brand new year. And a brand new decade. And despite this decidedly ominous start for your beleaguered and beloved Professor of Insecurities, I think 2010 is going to be a good one for all of us.
Yes, a shadow of a smile finds me now because even in this somewhat shaky and sickly state, it's so so good to be back.
Are you good at being sick? At resting when you need to? More importantly, did you miss me? :)
***Because I loved Gretchen Rubin's book THE HAPPINESS PROJECT so much, I went out I sent Husband out (hey, I'm swining here!) to buy five, yes five, copies of it to give away this week. To become eligible to win one of these divine goodies from Gretchen, please leave a comment here today (1/4/10) before 11pm EST. If you miss the comment boat today, never fret. You will have a chance to win this great book each and every day this week!***