240304 the today stuff and a portrait
The cooper's hawks are not around. Their nest is only begun. Please let it not be abandoned. I remember that in other years the couple has gone off for a honeymoon, usually a couple of weeks, so I am counting on them returning soon.
The witches are so far away, sleeping the winter away, robed in white, or naked and black against the hills. Sleeping, they dream the snowstorms, they dream of spring and new apples. I feel as if they listen, as mothers for their children, even as they sleep, for murmurs of prayer, for the singing of the turning seasons, the spinning of the earth around the sun. I will call the witches then, even from here. Just now I feel as if I could reach them with my voice, the breath I release pushing against their branches. A butterfly wing tipping the earth just a little.
To write, it has been knocking at my mind for days.
Today's words of wisdom: do not stop getting stronger each day. Exercise, walk, lift weights, and babies, stretch and curl your fingers and toes, tall up your back, feel the strength of the muscles that support the spine and ribs. Feel the "volume" of your back is what my Alexander teacher says, and she is right, that there is a comfort, a cloak of muscles that is your back, it holds you all day. It's got your back, as it were. But I have watched K wait through these days, before the surgery and now after. Waiting, he wastes; the physiotherapists are very casual about long-term loss of strength. When I spoke to the (I think) head physio guy, I got the impression that he will not push a person to do more than they wish. I think this is both good and bad; there needs to be some perception of the emotional state of the patient, AND of their best outcome needs. I have been remiss, myself, in not being more attentive to K's needs through this. I, too, was waiting. But I see that we have to push, we have to start cardiovascular strengthening, K needs strong arms and a strong left leg, a strong back, heart, and lungs, for his rehabilitation, when it begins. But it should have begun in the beginning - habilitation, not RE-habilitation, for only a smallish part of him has been unable to "habilitate". He must walk and walk, (or hop!) on his good leg. But he has lost so much of his strength that he almost cannot help himself to get better, because he is too frail and weak now. This neglect and breakdown is not uncommon with such injuries. Were K ten years older, he might not come back from this. Often, a broken hip is a death sentence: because without the daily support, the attention to exercise, spirit and strength, the person fades away. Every day that you don't use it, at our age, you lose it. The dreaded pneumonia lurks behind every respiratory illness. I knew this, but like the medical staff about the hospital, I was waiting, and K was waiting, for the surgery.. That has been done and quite well too, but it seems we are waiting again, and even as K does his physio, such as it is, he is sliding backwards, even after the repair, becoming less and less able to do anything. I am angry with myself, for not being his coach, somehow inspiring him to keep up his strength, but I am also angry with the physio staff, who should know this and who should push for strength maintenance, during periods of invalidity.
But, here we are. Do the today stuff.
I went for a walk with my friend, Ange, a day or two ago. I can speak the thoughts, with her, that are knocking at my door, and in saying out loud the confusion, I can find the resolution I need. During our walk, I talked about K's reticence and reserve, that I wished he would talk more and give me the verbal feedback that I crave as a "wordist", and as I talked, I realized that I already knew what K was thinking and feeling. I want to hear it from him, I respect him enough to want to be sure what it is he wants, but as I talked to Ange I saw that I do not need the words from him. I can trust that I do know him. (He used to say, "I have told you I love you. I do not need to say it again." Although we have made a habit of saying it often and we modelled that with our children.) A friend indeed, is Ange. She has been in my life for almost forty years, has never failed me, never dissed me, always been there with a kind ear and gentle words. I am segueing here, but while I am on the subject of this friend I want to show you a painting she made of Rocky. This amazing woman only recently picked up a paintbrush, learning watercolour, which medium I know is delicate to work with, but which she masters with the same delicate and exact touch she brings to friendship.
These pictures: I am having a deja vu as I format them. I guess that is not surprising, since this is part of my every day, and I have often included it in a post. It is the rising and the setting of the sun, in the hydro field that is our forest, Rocky and I.
*****
I saw a strange thing yesterday. As I drove along the Queensway, I saw a pigeon dive straight down between the cars in the middle of the lane ahead. When I arrived at the spot, I saw her, uncrushed, but lying on her back, unmoving. What happened there?
Thank you for visiting. Keep well. Be strong and brave.
Mumma Yaga
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