Mag plucked reasons to be thankful from egregious days. I mean to follow suit, shall practise gratitude conscientiously. This morning’s list, to linger over (note to self!), details eased loose from concertina folds of anxious mind: hearing the voices of my family, over the telephone, means so much; writing when hope and mettle need retouching; ferocious skull-pain dulling; a meditation buddy; chums who keep in touch; Meryl, my sparkle-hearted carer, humming while she works; the taste of cauliflower, oven-baked, bedecked with turmeric; knowing Mag, for a little while; and, these last few weeks, scattered yet finely tuned exchanges with two #BedFest friends, one old, one new, who seem to see me from their bedsteads on another continent. Kandice, Kendrick, thank you. Here’s looking at you too!
Audio when I can
Spring has arrived, with caveat. The blackbird in my garden jubilates; a rose bush throws pale yellow blossoms in the air; scents need greeting, breath wants blessing, I will, I do – but…
So bright outside. I love the light. Greedy for unadulterated vibrancy I don a cotton jumper chive stalk green, with trousers dyed to out-shine poppy fields – for a medical appointment, then, to make the most: in bed – yet…
First, grief whips sentience like a spinning top; now, calming, drags my hodgepodge toy heart on a blasted string. Everything reminds of Mag. Don’t let me forget.
I was thinking of my friend Mag Friel when I wrote these lines last year. To most of the world, she, and thousands like her who suffer(ed) from severe M.E. – bed-bound, in constant pain, with a catalogue of spreading and ever more debilitating symptoms – do not exist. Let us change that.
I will be tweeting the flyer from @2tired2riot today, #ManifestME – please share.
#MEAwarenessDay #MillionsMissing #CanyouseeMEnow
Audio (only of the flyer I’m afraid)