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Friday, 30 June 2006
Symptoms and treatments.
How many times have I written of illness? Does it punctuate and order my sentences? These times, stretched across three cities, are they pioneered and held upon a balance, only just a movement away from illness?
You look at me again, kindness in eyes. A recognition and reluctance eases the words toward me. You have been here before, this is where you are.
This time it is easier, there are symptoms and treatments. Steam, essential oils, baskets of fruit, the dull tingle of spiced lentils, the lemon slices and honey, paracetamol. There is a period of retraction and growth afoot and you are coping beautifully, making me both sure and unsure. It is like holding my hand and covering my eyes, a dual action of comfort and discomfort, resting upon trust.
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