THE DEADLY BREATH OF WINTER

 

I've always hated winter. Its devastating impact only hit me when I moved away from Southern California. I left a balmy 65 degrees and was welcomed with an Ozark blizzard and 5 frigid degrees. 

Winter drains the light from my spirit and the life from my soul. The ruthlessly howling frosted winds never invoke visions of sugarplums and winter wonderlands. They shiver with desolation and forgotten ice-ladened graves.

What happened to holiday cheer?

I left it behind, with the faint almost forgettable scent of spring flowers.

So why am I writing this gloom? Be patient. There's always a method to my madness.

My birthday was a busy one. I was expecting a quiet, uneventful day. 

I got up early and, with a rare burst of energy, started cleaning up the bedroom.

Later, I got a call from the designated plumber chosen by my current social worker. He fixed the leaking bathroom pipe and informed me that a new toilet will be installed. All for no charge. An incredible surprise.

Much later I got a call from one of the home care nurses. She wanted to come over with two other workers to clean the house and set up my new mattress. I declined the help, but they came anyway. They spend several hours cleaning and hauling out the trash that I had collected (aquired?).

I was immensely greatful and humbled. It was late when they left and I was too tired to cook dinner. All I had was coffee and cookies.

Today - - the day after my birthday - - I woke up with a cautious surge of optimism, but also an underlying sense of foeboding. I never expect positivity. If it appears, it will eventually unceremoniously vanish. 

The shock came from my cousin Nancy, who informed me that my beloved cat Bosco died. When I was hospitalized on June 1st, I had a gnawing feeling that I'd never see him again.

I was so sick that fateful day that, after I called 911, I passed out on the front porch. Bosco stayed with me until the ambulance came.

Everything was done to save Bosco but he didn't make it. He was nine years old.

I always suspected he wouldn't live long. I had him since the day he was born and he was an extremely sick kitten. He was plagued with sinus and respiratory infections that could never be resolved.

He was the only light left in my life - - and  the only companion I had to live for.

I have endlessly talked about gratitude and blessings and the possibility of positivity. But it all fades away like an indescernible dream.

I passed the previous grueling six months with strength, courage, dignity, and patience.

Today I cried.

                            Jon