Re:coup

As soon as the shift clocks out, illness sets in. Your body folds in on itself, waking you at all hours and falling asleep on a whim, everything aches in strange angles. The afternoon sun is mild and feels like spring, I walk slowly down under the bridge to the river while my muscles complain at the effort. I cannot demand purpose, or productivity, only to take steady breaths and watch the water, listen to the blue skies and let the jumble in my mind fall into place. Live a little. I remember inside myself the person who loves adventure, who loves a new view, who leaps for the sheer thrill of leaping and never longs to say I told you so. We all make moves and take chances that may not be right in the end, it doesn't mean we shouldn't have taken them.

I go home early, fall asleep again against my beetter judgment. A Saturday night plays out on Second Avenue below, but no matter. I spent this time wisely: a sick day can make even the most wretched illness subside, make the light at the other end of rock bottom look invitingly within reach.