talking and smiling; over tea.

In the Middle of our very Busy day (almost hectic at one point but then we realized we were relying on caffeine and not breathing and all was well again) we had a Visitor from Out of Town.

The most special aspect of our visit was that we got to talking/engaged in conversation about Real things (hospitals, surgery, how-to-cope when the bomb of Illness explodes in the midst of one’s life) almost Instantly – which is Rare and beautiful in a day.

As our guest was also well-versed in the Imaginative and the curious and the fabulous and the downright delicious modes of life, we were able to talk about Those sorts of things too. Also rare in the hubbub of the sniper fire of midtown manhattan.

After our visitor left, we cleared away the remaining tea receptacles and felt Very Refreshed.

There’s something beautiful and clearing and Utterly Necessary about drinking tea and sitting close with someone who knows how frightening it is to be lying on that gurney, waiting for the assembled cast of professionals in white to come in and open one up with knives and – hopefully – make it all better. And then to sit for a long while, in some confusion and a great deal of pain, wondering how to piece one’s life together again as the stitches heal and the missing pieces are examined under a microscope somewhere.

And to know that this other person, drinking tea, and smiling and catching one’s breath from time to time, also confesses to the Most perplexing notion that there’s Actually very little of the life Before that one wants Back.

So we wait.

Healing.

Plotting.

Sometimes just lying exhausted on the couch wondering what color/colour/shade the Higher Dosage of synthroid will be when we fill the “scrip” (yes, they make them in pale pastels, isn’t that Truly mid-70s psychotropic-like of them, darlings – Pretty Pills – er, Not).

And wondering what’s Next.

Sending healing thoughts Across Town……………to anyone who needs it today.

*smiling_on_the_sofa_in_soho*

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