Slowly, the disease ebbs out. You stretch your muscles and remember again what lightness it is just to breathe with ease. I spend my mornings staring into the light therapy lamp, a new addiction I am not interested in weaning myself off. The gift of aging is learning which battles to choose. The new year barrels ahead, and we're already a step behind. But winter twilight was breathtaking last night, twinkling across glass buildings and singing down the avenues.
As long as we get there, we get there.
That may be the kindest wisdom yet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment