More good than bad

I had big plans for last weekend; alas, the best laid plans …

The good:  Friday afternoon my grama extended the invitation to my mum and I to eat dinner with her at “the home” and then stay for an outdoor concert.  I looked out the window and there were showers in them there clouds, but I agreed all the same.  It seems the minute we stepped outside the clouds dispersed, the breeze calmed, and the sun shone brightly.   One guest said she prayed all week that the weather would hold out for the concert.  Looking up at the blue sky – and the happy faces surrounding me – I knew beyond a doubt, God answered her prayers.   It was good times had by all.  There was popcorn, lemonade, and toe-tapping strings.  But it was the interaction between one couple that touched me most.  He had been placed in assisted living, she’s still residing in independent living.  The nurse wheeled him out and then his wife lovingly took over.  She treated him with dignity.  When asked if he would like popcorn, she simply replied she didn’t know, but they should ask him.  She treated him with care.  With the sun to his back, she raised the collar of his pajamas so his neck would not burn.  She treated him with love.  A pat on the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek, a wink – each a small, easy, natural act of love.   She treated him, I imagine, as she has always treated him.  You could tell, from the way she looked at him that she didn’t see the pajamas, or the wheelchair; she didn’t see the bandanged hands, or age spots; she didn’t see the thinning white hair, or the missing teeth.  She saw the boy she fell in love so long ago.  It’s so rare that we can glimpse true love – I’m lucky enough to say I have.  They are all the luckier to have experienced it. 

The ugly:  Friday night, not so good.  I was smote with the stomach flu.  THE STOMACH FLU!  Since I have a good few years before I actually dive, head-long, into a detailed account of my ailments, I have but this to say: it wasn’t right.  And I have the broken blood vessels around my eyeballs to prove it.  Although, come to think of it, it may be more good than bad.  Because this morning, when I woke up feeling more like myself and less like roadkill, my first thought was, “I’m ALIVE!!!”  This is not usually my first thought, mind you.  It usually entails a lot of whimpering, with a grumble thrown in for good measure.   So I imagine anything that reminds you how marvelous it is to be alive – especially in the wee hours of the morning – can’t be all bad …