Last night I said a prayer. It was unusual in that I asked for something specific. I asked that something please show up on this latest round of tests.
Somehow, I don’t think anything will, which is why I said a prayer.
It is so out of my hands.
So I have said my prayer, and I will go the EEG and the next doctor appointment, and meanwhile I will focus on the small things that are good. Will celebrate the small successes, and then come what may, I plan to be in Bellingham with my niece and nephew for Easter.
I hope no one thought I was aligning myself with Jesus in my path to experience some resurrection between Ash Wednesday and Easter. I was thinking of myself more as a flower, or a rabbit.
Still the cat of death looms.
I want to have 400 egg hunts with my niece and nephew.
I am also very fond of Passover and the gathering for Seder and miss the many years in which I celebrated these holidays with extended family and friends. I need to eat the bitter herbs.
As for the very good things, last night I made country-fried steak and gravy, and buttermilk biscuits, and baby carrots. And I love making biscuits though I cannot do it without coating the kitchen, and myself, in flour.
The ghost of flour.
Isn’t a fresh-from-the-oven buttermilk biscuit slathered with more butter and topped with strawberry jam one of the finer things in life?
And after that came the thunder-snow. The hail that fell like gumballs. Then the lightning and thunder, then the cold rain. Now there is just some snow in the yard and the sun urging it into water.
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