stillness

Home. I wouldn't have to be rich to just stay here, day after day, watering the plants, sweeping the floor, folding the laundry. It may get old after awhile, but I am a homebody. Haley was telling me of her teenage angst, her wanderlust, her desire to hop trains and hobo her life away. My son wanted to travel, to see Australia and Amsterdam and any other place he perceived as permissive, any place but home. But all I've ever wanted was to make a home and stay in it. I've worked, always, and God knows I've moved my share, but home is where my heart is. I think if it were not for work, I wouldn't know how much I appreciated these periods of downtime, these episodic failures of body and mind that make it impossible for me to leave home for awhile. When I got here -- two years ago now -- I didn't work for months, seven, and I was so wrapped around getting settled and finding my way around that I never did relax. And now, pain denies me full appreciation of time to myself, but I am home, and it is still, and I am happy to be here, watching soaps and feeling no guilt at all.

The pre-op guys just called with all the pre-op questions and surgery looms ever closer. I have a coupon for a free milkshake at Burgerville and will stock up on Vanilla Swiss Almond Haggen Das, or plain vanilla. Did you know that Haggen Das means nothing? It isn't a real word or name or anything.

So, one more day and my arm will be repaired and I will do my therapy like a good girl and get my life back.