i’m home. all of my kids are here. my man bob is here, and he is recovering. (Everything went as expected and the crisis is just now losing its bubbling simmer.) There is a fire going and i have two days off in a row, plus more to come. recovery will be slow, and then leap, and then slow again. i’m glad the week of hospital is over, and he and i will have the opportunity to out-stubborn each other over and over again in the next weeks. how many times per hour do you think i can ask what his pain level is? or offer him drinks? food? we will see. i’m overly skilled at obsequiousness.
but also this:
i’ve had more time off in the past week than i usually do, because i have asked for it, and needed it, sometimes to go to the ICU, sometimes to get gift cards for nurses, and I think i’ve fallen into the woolf-y world of recognizing how much my creative brain needs more space. just having some mornings to myself this week has sent me to books, to writing. just two mornings, and the space – the space has been full, and my heart and anxiety fully engaged in another, but really, deeply, I have appreciated it. (only the space, not one other aspect. not one.) the ability to dither, to think, to idly spin in the kitchen.
I listened to Pride and Prejudice in my drives this past two weeks. I’ve also hit up a bunch of Agatha Christie. I listened to one audio detective type series which took place in the US, with an American protagonist, but it was read by a British reader, and the words were pronounced in British format and it made me insane. INSANE. Also, the Grass Harp. so beautiful, and a tree in a house and an escape. You’ll see. I set myself the task of fifty books this year, my fiftieth, and there is no way I will make it. But I’m still reading much more than I have been, so I’m thankful for the impulse.
and this:
One of the things on my list for my fiftieth year was a getaway for myself, and I booked it before all this stuff with Bob, and now I know how much I will need it. See? February, four days in a cabin stoking a woodstove and using an outhouse. There is electricity and a tiny kitchenette. Me and me. four days.
In some ways I do think I will come back different. less tied to my device, more settled in ways that are from my past, i’ll be so happy to see everyone when I get back. I’m moderately thrilled about it. I’ll add some more books to my list, I am sure. And I’ll bring plenty of socks and sweaters.
But that is not until February. And there is a whole lot that will happen between now and then, and I’m here for it, and glad of it.
love you guys,
me.
Glad you and Bob are doing well. Book recommendation to read to each other, maybe your kids as well, so very funny in a Mark Twain way and I think you may have to have some old rural in your blood lines to really appreciate it. Richard Peck’s “ A Long Way from Chicago “. Big hug
So glad Bob is home and on the mend.
Regarding Jane Austen, I think she’s the only author that I can read and reread and look forward to all my favorite parts but read everything in between anyway. The characterizations are so well drawn and the dialog so crisp that it all seems vey modern and relevant. Just her keen observations of people and the misunderstandings that can so easily crop up between us, especially when love is in the air. I also love watching the various versions of her books.
So glad you’re having some time for self and books – the great wonder of the civilized world.