For the first time in a few sick days I got myself through the shower, into real clothes and shoes, and stepped out my front door to see the world. It was much greener than the last time I inspected it. More flowers are blooming. Spring kissed me on the cheek and told me to be patient with the healing process, everything is going to be fine.
And it's true. I know because this morning I awoke to welcome news from my friend who started chemotherapy last week. He's losing his hair (including the most enthusiastic and expressive eyebrow hedges growing on anybody's face anywhere on earth) and his energy is kaput, but his pain, which was excruciating less than two weeks ago, is under control, and it's likely he's going to come out of this battle victorious in several months. Add that to wonderful report another piece of prayed-for news this week, that my beloved cousin, whom I've been terribly anxious about, survived the cancer surgery people were worried he wouldn't, and is doing better than anyone expected. We get to keep him, for at least a few more years.
Spring apparently has a few tricks up her sleeve. I'm wondering whom she'll straighten out next. There are a few other dear ones on my list, but I trust she'll remember them too and spread around enough of her bee-buzz bulb-sprout love to mend all their hurting places. This feels very much like a season of returning life and thriving energy. We can be done with dying for a while.
"Life is sweet." That's the voice of Spring talking.