Like the pilot boat, I was out there greeting the new day yesterday. Less cold, no runny nose, and little coughing. I worked at the shop with the few donations that came in and priced sale cookbooks. Though I felt tired, I also felt triumphant about getting back into life again.
When you are young, you get a cold, you take all the meds, and though you are miserable you leap into life despite it all. It’s just a cold. When you are in your seventies or eighties, a cold is a major pausing point halting life as you know it. Since I usually fall downhill into some form of respiratory problems mid-cold, life often feels precarious for the next six months. Severe asthma as a child didn’t help. Heavy smoking for over forty years didn’t help either.
Every day now is a precious thing. Even a small cold makes me aware of how short and special every day is.