She sits resolutely on the nest, rarely moving. Every morning, when I open the door to get the newspaper, there she is, tucked into the corner of one of the pillars on my front porch. I see her round black eyes calmly regarding me. I watch for movement beneath her, to see if any babies have come. “Hi, birdy,” I say, in a high, soft voice. I say this every morning and am met with calm silence. But this morning, a little miracle occurred. I opened the door, she turned to look at me and made a kind of coo-coo-coo sound, and it was as if she were speaking directly to me. I cannot tell you how honored I felt. It was as though we had begun a relationship, as though the next text I get might be from her, saying Hey, girlfriend! I know I look like I’m cold, but OMG I am so happy out here.
So here’s some news. I have a cervical disc problem and a pinched nerve that is causing so much pain I sometimes cry, and believe me, I have a high pain threshold. (Natural childbirth twice, after all.) I had to cancel a lot of my book tour which ALMOST made me cry, but PT is beginning to help and we have rescheduled or will reschedule events for my new novel:
I’m struck by what happens when you get knocked off the game board for you don’t know how long. Little things, which have always meant a lot to me, mean more. The smell of soup, a Chopin etude, Barbara Crooker’s and James Crews’ poems, the slant of light through the living room windows, the messages from friends to get better, the way my big moose-dog, Austin, hovers nearby in case I need him for anything, which I sometimes do: the drugs I’m taking can make me woozy, and he steadies me. Plus he’s just so darn cute:
I’m not supposed to be using the computer but I do it anyway, just a little. I like to stay in touch. I like to work. And as I told my love, who is taking such good care of me, “I don’t WANT to be the patient. I want to be the NURSE!”
I’ll close with an anecdote I always liked:
E. B. White , when he was confined to bed toward the end of his life, liked to have things he’d written read to him. I confess I’m re-reading THE STORY OF ARTHUR TRULUV. Some, it’s research because when I recover I’m going to finish writing a novel about Nola. Some it’s because there are times I really like reading my own work. There. I said it. Not only that, here’s a cool ad my friend Phyllis crafted for my “Happy” books. They help, too.
I hope to see you at events in Milwaukee, WI, Isle of Palms, SC, and Wheaton, IL SOON! Now I’m going to sit on the sofa like a slug. At least there are movies I can watch. I can’t recommend enough THE QUIET GIRL, based on Claire Keegan’s FOSTER. I saw it in a movie theater (so fun! the big screen! the popcorn! the presence of others who also reached for their hankies!) before the pain set in, but I think you can see it on TV. More later, as I continue to improve.
Oh, Elizabeth, I'm so sorry to hear you're not well. Please take good care of yourself, and let others take good care of you, too, and you're sure to be up and about as always. I'm enjoying "I've Been Thinking..." very much, as well as every book you've ever written. I'm sure many of your fans would agree with me that we'd enjoy reading anything you write, even if it was your grocery list! lol
I love reading all your little post Elizabeth. They make a rainy day sunny and a sunny day warm. Hope you will .be feeling much better soon... healthy healing hugs,