In response to today’s Daily Post Challenge
Waking up this morning I felt glued to the bed. It was one of those mornings where I wasn’t really sure that my body was going to move me out of bed. I could hear the shower running in the bathroom next door but nothing else. The kids are still sound asleep. I first attempt to make a fist with my right hand but it barely moves. ‘Here we go,’ I thought as I hurled myself over onto my left side to now face the window. My hands may not work yet but at least the gross motor system seems to be intact. It was time to decide whether to stay in bed or get up. I chose the former. Closing my eyes, I could think only of the Weekly Writing Challenge and the thought of a terrifying future. Maybe this is what it would be for me – I’m alive but unable to participate in life. I look towards the window but the white wood blinds remain closed, allowing only little light slivers to shine through. ‘Did it snow last night?’ I wonder. No, I can’t hear anyone shoveling and my neighbour would surely be out by now. Too bad, I love the look of the streets after a fresh snowfall. I try my hand again but still nothing. Maybe I’m willing it to be this way; maybe I don’t want to get up. I pretend I’m not yet awake while I close my eyes and drift back to sleep for a few sacred minutes. My husband is back in our room, and when he leans over to kiss me, I know I can’t pretend to sleep. His lips are so soft and perfect, I kiss him as much as I can before he heads out. Now I have to get myself up so I can kiss him again. After willing my body to work for several long minutes, I roll myself over onto my right side and push myself up into a sitting position. Standing up onto my bare feet, my soles tingle as I put the full weight of my body on them. I wander over to my closet where I left my sweats and put them on. There are no buttons, clasps, or belts – that is why I put them on in the morning. It always takes a while for my hands to really start working. Walking down the hallway, I can smell the egg and English muffin my husband has cooked himself. I find him in the kitchen and his warm kiss makes the effort more than worthwhile. We get to talk for a few minutes before he heads off to work. But when he goes, I get the warmth of his embrace, and one last kiss to last me until his return.