Day comes. Whether the night has been one of quiet sleep, or restless legs, body-soaking sweat that curls my hair and makes my nightgown wet on my skin, chilling me when I peel off the covers and stand up in the cool flow of air-conditioning. Day comes. Whether I am in pain or relieved because it is only a dull ache. Day comes. This dawn, after last night’s welcome first-in-weeks rain, shows itself squeaky clean, fresh.
At sunset yesterday, I watched birds on the chain link fence fluffing up their feathers. wet and refreshed, playing like young children in a sprinkler. Joy in the moment. We have been partched, thirsty, and now we are rehydrated, plumped up.
My two-week post surgery doctor’s appointment is this morning. I still have several hours to drink coffee, work at my desk, take a careful shower — making sure not to dislodge the nine steri-strips holding the jagged cut together — dry my hair, put on lipstick and gin up a smile.
My time in this particular desert is almost over. I crave the rain forest.