Flu Season

“I’m not getting very far here.”

Andrew had started a thousand piece puzzle. He was confined to home. Not because he had been put under house arrest by police, but by the flu. The annoying flu. Andrew had been in bed for two days. He dragged himself out of bed, aching and restless. His wife took their children, two boys, to school then went to work at the Technology Institute. Andrew was home alone. His wife, Elise, had left salad and soup in the refrigerator. He could manage the microwave and to make tea and toast. He wasn’t completely alone. His old terrier, Max, followed him from bedroom to living room.

For awhile, he just sat in his easy chair in the living room, the sun streaming in the front window. He put his head back, closed his eyes and soaked in the warmth that wasn’t yet spring. He could almost feel himself stretch into the warmth, but was still too exhausted. After a short doze, he willed his muscles to move. That’s when he went to the hall closet and pulled out a puzzle from their vast collection of puzzles. He didn’t decide on a particular one, just took the top one and carried it to the dining room. He and Elise kept a card table in a corner just for jigsaw puzzles.

The tea kettle pierced the quiet house. Andrew needed some tea while working on the puzzle. He looked at the picture on the box. A gigantic tree in full leaf with red flowers, dwarfing a two story house in the corner of the picture. A tiny piece of sky. He pulled his housecoat tighter around him, his feet warm in old socks and slippers.

“I don’t know about that tree, but the sky…..” Andrew began turning over each piece of the puzzle. His muscles felt so weak. The tiny cardboard pieces felt heavy. Andrew had a principle for putting together any puzzle. Restore order. Start by turning over all the pieces. Get the corner pieces out. Andrew sat heavily on the card table chair, leaned forward and began. He forgot his aching and weak muscles as he began the search for the picture. Matching colours and shapes. Forgetting he was just barely recovering.

Andrew got up once for his glasses and another cup of tea, moving a bit more easily. He let Max out and then in again. Loving the quiet of the house, he returned to the puzzle. The house was built, the tree trunk started and that piece of sky was complete. Sitting up straight and stretching his back, he reached down and scratched Max’s ears.

‘Come on, boy. Let’s go have a nap. This tea is cold and the rest of the puzzle can wait.”

“Everything is hard before it is easy.”

~ Goethe

Career Moves

I might have been 
An operating room nurse
I liked the strict order 
But couldn’t see the patient
For sheets and drapes

I might have been
A paediatric nurse
I love children
But couldn’t tolerate
Their pain and bravery

I might have been
An orthopaedic nurse
I loved the mechanics
But couldn’t fix the reasons
Behind injuries caused.

I might have been
A physical rehabilitation nurse
And that was closer to my heart
Because I could support recovery
From all kinds damaging events

I might have been
A nurse specializing
In any other health care field
Because I saw the needs of many
But I saw one cause roaming throughout each specialty

I did decide to become
An addictions nurse
Specializing in withdrawal management
- not just detox - not just sobering up
But the priniciples of basic nursing care in all areas of nursing.

I occasionally am honoured to be
A nurse educator of these principles ~
A mentor to a nursing student
As they pass a day or maybe more
Learning about the beginnings of recovery.

“I’ve learned that making a ‘living’ is not the same thing as ‘making a life’.”

~ Maya Angelou

Feeling Faded

Feeling Faded

With her faded dress and worn shoes she was certain she couldn’t go on. The streets were long and hard. Her morning began in great confidence. She knew before she left the shelter that she wasn’t the best dressed, but she was clean and one of the other girls had fixed her hair. She felt she looked quite professional. Tricia expected some rejections, but as the morning wore on, she began to feel something hardening in her soul. 

Tricia had enough in her wallet for lunch. Lunch would fix her flagging feelings. The warmth of the small diner felt good. She ordered soup and sandwich - the cheapest on the menu. The ginger carrot soup was smooth and delicious. Just enough of a bite to get her attention. Tricia closed her eyes and sat back in the chair. Easing her feet from her shoes without taking them off, she curled and uncurled her toes. Sitting forward again, she carefully ate lettuce and roast beef sandwich. It might be the last she ate for the day, so savoured every bite. Once her lunch was finished, making sure to drink an extra glass of water, the Ladies room was her next stop. 

Tricia wasn’t done with her job search. In the mirror she saw a too young and too tired woman who looked lost. Straightening up, she brushed back her hair, put a smile on her face and smoothed her skirt. For too long, she had drifted, finally living on the streets, in shelters and couch surfing. She had been angry with her parents, always wanting her to ‘have principles’. Tricia hadn’t seen her parents for…. How long? She couldn’t remember. Tricia wanted to tell them that she now had at least one principle. To become independent. To get her own place. To stop drifting.

Despite her faded dress and worn shoes, she also knew that she would go on. She would find her place in the world. By the end of the day, she had one job interview for the next day.

“The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud.”

~ Coco Chanel

Sparklers

Sparklers 

It was amazing. The sky was black except for the amazing stars covering the sky. A moonless night on the ocean is not a dark night. Thin drifts of cloud hung low over the water. Clarise hadn’t had  time to stop and listen to the night. They were busy that evening, busier than usual. She was new at the job of waiting on tables and really didn’t know why one night could be busier than another. Didn’t cruise ships have the same busy-ness all the time? But this evening was special. All the glitter of the outside was matched on the inside. But not the quiet calm of the beautiful night. Hockey Night in Canada was on the big screen. Most of the passengers had abandoned the casino, the featured entertainer and even a midnight swim in the pool on the upper deck. Many even had the jerseys of their favourite team. She joined in the cheering after a good play, and groaned when her team was scored against. In this strange gathering - hockey in the middle of the ocean - there seemed the unspoken principles of camaraderie and celebration. The night was well and truly sparkling.

“Life and light made up the interior, the realm of the daytime. 

The exterior was darkness and night.”

~ Chess Desalls, Travel Glasses

Author's note: Edited February 03, 2024

Claiming My Space

Claiming My Space 

Darren Johnson finally turned off the TV. Sitting in his living room with the ceiling fan spinning lazily, air-conditioner on, windows and doors closed against the heat, he had actually managed to get cold. As the street lights came on and the sun no longer blazed, he stepped onto the front porch. The air was heavy and moist. Traffic thinned with only the occasional car passing slowly on the soft asphalt. Although blessed to have air conditioning in his home, the tightness of his closed up home had begun to feel as stifling as the heat that still lingered. A glass of sweating ice tea in hand, the open porch with wilting plants and silent wicker furniture, he breathed deeply of the heavy evening air. Birds were silent except for a single night bird high in the trees of his front yard. The evening was calm, yet there was a feeling that he couldn’t pinpoint. He wanted to move, to get out on the road and walk. Restless, he paced on his porch avoiding the darkness falling on the land.

A sudden gust of wind set his rocking chair moving. Sitting in the chair he moved with the rocker. It was the TV news reports. They were the restlessness. Slowing the rocker, he took control of the moment,  his time and his space. "What's happening in the world, outside of my world, is gonna happen whether I watch it or not. Whether I worry or not. The world of politics and global affairs? Not my world.  My principles are my own." As Darren sipped his ice tea, the cold glass and the creak of the rocking chair connected him to the evening and the setting sun while the nightbird sang.

“Watching television is like taking black spray paint to your third eye.”
~ Bill Hicks

Author's note: Edited February 03, 2024

Reflections on What If?

Reflecting on The Women's March yesterday, I’ve asked a couple of questions. Of course, when I awoke this morning, my biggest question before I put my feet on the floor was - will my legs work? And my feet? Quickly I learned that all was well in that department.

But all is still not well in the world of political change. The Women’s March yesterday was peaceful, welcoming and safe. A gentleman next to me commented that he had not seen any police presence. When I asked some of the others around me, I was told that they had seen ‘one’ or ‘two’ walking casually through the crowd. When the March began, and as it proceeded, I did see police. They were quiet and respectful with their job to ensure there were no traffic difficulties. An aside - the motorists were as respectful, many waving to us, honking in solidarity.

Back to the police and my questions. I thought of the scenes from evening news reports showing riots and violence. People being dragged away, fires set and property destroyed. People being handcuffed and violently arrested. And I wondered ‘what if’? What if the March yesterday had turned from peaceful to ugly? How would I have reacted?

Standing up for a belief is relatively easy in a large peaceful crowd. Cheering each other on, singing and chanting. Would I run away? Would I sit down and hold my space in the knowledge that my principles were important? Would I freeze and not know what to do? Hopefully, I will never have to find out. 

What I was grateful for was the peaceful nature of everyone involved. Marchers and police, spectators and those unable to join us. Yes, there were hand lettered signs with which I disagreed. I have never agreed with ridicule of any other. It seems ineffective, cruel, and very counter productive. But that’s just me. So, what would I do? I really don’t know, however it has made me think about what I would be willing to do or say for my principles. What I do know is that, to the best of my ability, today I live my beliefs.

“You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth 

or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you.”

~ C.S.Lewis