Just about the time, I think I’m getting stronger— dry eyes for a week, energy enough, a couple of hearty laughs — the smallest thing happens. The lid on the jar is stuck. A spider on the ceiling is out of my reach. I find his work badge.
Or
A piece of mail arrives for Bill. Someone says his phrase. His favorite meteorologist jokes about the weather.
Or
The remotes confuse me again. There’s a puddle under the car. I meet my neighbor named Bill.
The smallest thing triggers the deepest pain. What’s the word? Torrent? Slammed? Under?
How about fragile.
In those moments, I realize I’m not so strong, in fact I’m fragile. I’ve got a ways to go. I believe I will be strong one day. I will hear our song and sing along with a
steady voice and a heart smile. But
right now I’m rather… fragile.
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