Sandra Saxon Burnsed
I finally got a chance to come outside after a morning of running errands and doing housework. Mr. Brown mowed the yard first thing this morning and the scent of the fresh cut grass still fills the air. Maybe I’m just getting crotchety and old, but after a few hours of being on the road and having to meet “people”, I long for the relative quiet of my backyard. We were going to visit the grandbabies, but the youngest is sick with a strep throat. So his older sister is staying with a cousin to keep from catching it. This disappointed Lisa, but neither me nor her needs any more health issues.
Next week I go in for another round of iron infusions. It feels a little awkward doing my treatments at a cancer treatment center. Sitting there trying to occupy my mind while that rusty colored drip seeps into my veins. They’ll be other patients around me. Some smiling with family, whiles others sit there alone and weak. Each being slowly poisoned in order to get better. I don’t know why that bothers me so. I mean, we are all dealing with our own pain and hopefully our treatments will work. I remember clearly my first cardiologist spelling it out to me that things weren’t going to get better. That the damage had been done and that all I could do now was treat myself better for as long as I could.
So that’s what I’ve been trying to do. Having paused a few moments to read over what I’ve just written. No clear meaning to this comes to mind. I suppose sometimes I just write to be writing? But such as it is, if you’ve read this far, I’m sure you’ve pulled your own meaning from it anyway. So as the afternoon sun burns off what remains of this pleasant morning. I’ll sit here of a moment thinking about nothing but what I see in front of me. Listening to the breeze, that in it's own quiet way speaks peace into my soul.
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