Unsurprisingly I did not manage, and yet I’d said ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be OK.’ Two little letters charged to carry normalcy like droopy caryatids in pretty drapes.
Mustn’t grumble, I think, I’m not as bad as X, Y, Z, very nice roof over head, food in fridge, can write a bit, occasionally enjoy a visit. Ending up without speech, unable to read (not even tweets, though glad to know myself addressed), to phone my brother on his birthday, or filch dinner from the freezer – par for the course! Radio voices, usually the last resource, pan out as well? Just let them go. Charlottesville, Partition, new M.E. research, and cards from friends, tied in themed bundles and tucked away, along with fresh ideas and keen intent? Breathe…
In this fast world I chase a hurried game of peekaboo. The ‘nots’ drag on unseen.