I have been super sick for the last 2 days – high fever, chills, joint pain, misery. Finally, this afternoon, I managed to take a shower, wash my disgusting hair, brush my bloody awful teeth, and put on clean underwear. I’m not 100% yet, but I’d say I’m better than halfway there, and that seems promising. Still a little head-swimmy and sleepy, though.
Keith is in the kitchen cooking and singing. He knows every word of every song he plays, and he never misses a beat while he clinks dishes, rattles pans, and slams doors. Zupa Toscana (the Olive Garden soup) is one of my favorites, and he has made it for me and brought me a bowl…minus the kale, because Kroger didn’t have any (oddly enough). He has returned to the kitchen to wipe things, run water, and talk to the dog.
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean… He sings.
Yesterday, he says I asked if we were home and muttered crazy things when I was doped up on medicine with high fever. I remember him bringing me water, petting me, and covering/uncovering me while I cried. He held my hand when I was scared and bewildered and burning hot. He took Brady to a birthday party. When I staggered out of the bedroom at nearly 10 pm, he made me a bowl of cereal and brought it to the chair.
How ’bout them cowgirls…Boys, ain’t they something… He sings.
Earlier today, he called to check on me and stopped working to bring me lunch on his way through to someplace else he had to be. Yakisoba from the Japanese place. And he made sure I had ice water. He kissed my head and rubbed my greasy, matted hair before going back to work. His voice was gentle and soothing.
You’ll understand why God made…those flyover states… He sings.
Since he’s been home, he has sat with me for a while, before heading to the kitchen to cook the soup. The dishwasher has been unloaded and the counter top wiped clean. The recyclables are already stacked (to Jesus!) out by the curb for tomorrow’s pick up. I have heard him joke with Hudson (the dog) and call the kids down for some Zupa Toscana of their own.
I believe this world ain’t half as bad as it looks…I believe most people are good… He sings.
THESE are the blessings you count. Yes, the “make a list of what you’re thankful for”, keep a gratitude journal, blah blah stuff is important, and certainly all that works well to keep your blessings top of mind. But y’all…the sweetness, the kindness, the tender moments…THESE are the precious pieces of life that can’t go unnoticed. The going out of his way, his voice slightly off key singing every word, the way he smells when he leans down to put his face on my face…none of these are lost on me.
Design your life. Choose wisely. Soak up every ounce of goodness (in real time!) and take in every sight and sound of love that surrounds you. Be purposeful in noticing the smallest, the slightest, the most insignificant-seeming acts, expressions, and nuances of life. Savor them. Appreciate them. Hold them in your heart. Don’t let them pass you by. Don’t list them as an afterthought. Enjoy them NOW.
Sunday, the high is 33 degrees… Now he’s telling me about the weather predicted for this coming weekend.
He is sitting close to me. And I’m feeling a little better.
Amanda Herring, Writer 