Cough. Cough. Sputter, sputter, cough, cough.
Gah. I hate being sick.
But alas, today we have sun again, four days in a row(!) and what's more? I've got that I'm-six-years-old-and-home-sick-from-school feeling.
You know that feeling, don't you? You feel like you're cheating, sort-of, lying around in bed while the rest of your world sits in a classroom doing worksheets--even though that world has long gone. And although I haven't been six for over four whole decades, I can still recall lying on the couch in front of the tv watching Truth or Consequences, The Dating Game and I Love Lucy while sipping Campbell's chicken noodle soup and munching Saltines (oh, the salt of soup and crackers!).
Maybe it's a certain slant of morning light or that quick ache from touching a cold glass, but I still feel my mom placing a cool washcloth, folded, over my forehead and that achy feeling, and yet that other feeling of, "You know? This is kind-of nice, this being home on a sunny weekday morning." The puffy clouds sailing outside the windows in bright blue skies and Puff, The Magic Dragon weaving through my groggy head from the morning's episode of Captain Kangaroo.
Those memories, those feelings, return on feverish mornings like this one.
Cough, cough, sputter, sputter, cough, cough. I'll get better, I tell myself, ("And Debra encouraged herself in the Lord..."), but in the meantime I'll just lie in bed awhile longer and enjoy remembering other sick days from so very long ago. Days which are never very far away at all, no matter how many decades sail past.
Thanks so very much those of you who paused to wish me well yesterday. Each wish meant so much here and at Facebook, too.
Anyone else haunted by those long ago feelings and memories while lying sick in bed?