It's What We Do

My winter break has not gone as planned to put it mildly. I wish I could turn back the clock and undo Sumis' sickness, but I can't, of course. Rather than writing creatively at Lake Patagonia, I have been writing a blog and fielding phone calls from Sumis' concerned fans. I have in the nearest sense been house-bound, unwilling to leave Sumis for any real length of time. But this week has, as so many instances this last year have, reminded me that things unplanned are often the most deeply fated you will ever experience.

The last week has brought spectacular weather to the old pueblo, and I have enjoyed almost every minute of it outside with the mugs and mits (my term for dogs and cats). The sun is the warm yellow of mid-spring, the time of year when it is just warm enough to comfortably sit outside without a jacket and the color of the light is cheerful and promising. Yes, it is still January, but you wouldn't know it sitting outside. Our yard is full of birds and their chatter. Sumis has insisted on spending most of her time in my lap, sometimes positioned to permit easy reading, sometimes not. Today, in fact, Bose, the little yorkie, insisted he be held at the same time as Sumis. Between the two of them they occupied both legs, both arms and one hand. This left one hand, with the full range of wrist motions, available to me. I did manage to teeter a book in one hand for a few minutes before just relaxing into the afternoon. This is how the past week and a half has gone for me. The daylight hours have been spent outside in the sunshine, sporadically reading, catching up on letters and well, ... watching, thinking, enjoying four-legger company, and maybe just being. For the first time in years, I have slowed down. I have been on fast-forward for the last several years, stopping only long enough to get the minimum hours of sleep. I have packed my days with school, work, and extracurricular activities and my breaks with more of the same. Now I am reaping some of the benefits of this pace, but I know that I missed many of the delicious details along the way. Today, I am quiet enough to notice the moments slipping by and enjoy each as it passes. I don't waste my day running superfluous errands, or locked on the internet. Sitting outside this afternoon, I pondered this, my book and tea out of reach on the ground, Sumis fast asleep in my lap. This is what I needed more than anything. I needed to stop. Certainly, I would have preferred it happen under different circumstances, but it hit me how good it felt to be in the sun, watching the birds and the shadows on the mountains with a kitty asleep on my lap and dogs napping at my feet. This week, I realized, is one that will remain firm in my memory not just because of Sumis' treatments but also because of its perfection. Still moments sealed with sunshine, love and perfection. Moments that any coming turmoil cannot disturb. They remain still and solid, Sumis' seeds planted. When I recounted this thread of thought to my significant other later in the evening, the response I got was “but of course. This is what Sumis does. She takes care of you, and this is what you needed.” I looked at Sumis and said, “Missy, I thought we had a talk about this, about me taking care of myself.” Then, I realized that no matter what the future holds for Sumis and me, we will always take care of each other. We can't help ourselves. This is what you naturally do for those you love.