A week

This afternoon my husband asked me if I wanted to walk to the back of our property to take pictures of magnolia blooms.  Of course I wanted to, but that meant I would have to pass through The Gate.  I had a tinge of loathing for a moment, like that feeling you get when you know you unexpectedly see a person who has caused you grief, and you don’t want a confrontation.  But I know if you fall off a bicycle you have to get right back on and keep pedaling, no matter how scraped up your knees are, or your ego bruised.

So I did take that walk, and when I reached through The Gate and pressed the carabiner to pull it out of the latch I looked at the top of The Gate to see if it had suffered as well. There was a small dent, but I don’t if it was made by my mouth or if was already there.

I looked at the ground to see if there was any sign of my blood, but except for the haunting memory of that horrid moment there was no trace of evidence to be found.  Nevertheless, the return to The Scene gave me the chance to face a foe, forgive it, and keep going forward.

I met Lee in the middle pasture and we took our walk.  It was pleasant, but the magnolias are not yet in bloom. And since the grass is more than ankle high I had no desire to dawdle for fear of running across a snake soaking up the hot afternoon sun.

 On the way back Lee returned to his tractor work, and I continued towards the house, going once more through The Gate.  As I pulled it towards me I ran my finger across the dent, and it reminded me of the many casts I’ve made of my teeth when playing with chewing gum.  Maybe my imagination was running a little ahead of me.

This past week has been surreal to me.  The days ran together for the most part – bed, recliner, JELLO, bed, recliner, soup, etc., but I did venture out into the world for a short day of work, and a short visit to a grocery store.  For the most part people were polite and ignored my swollen face and bulging lips.  Some took great pains to not look at me, and some could not stop staring, like looking at a train wreck, I guess. 

I always try to don my rose-colored glasses to look at the flip side of the coin through the half full glass of lemonade.  This week my glass of sweet, rose-colored lemonade was filled to the brim from the outpouring of friendship, favors and well wishes.   I have been truly overwhelmed to know so many people care.  It’s humbling, it’s soul warming, and I am thankful.   

Truly.