Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Cold

Monday night after Great Scott's tests, I stayed up until 3:something in the morning, unwilling to sleep, wanting to stop time in the stillness of the night. I was cold. Very cold. Putting on another sweater didn't help. Putting on houseshoes didn't help. Sitting directly in front of the heat stove helped a little, but not much. When I did go to bed, I piled on the covers but couldn't sleep for my violent shivering. This continued all day yesterday and into today.

On the rare occasions that I speak (or write) of the most painful and frightening things that have happened in my life, I don't get emotional and am not tempted to. I don't cry; I don't feel like crying. I don't get angry. I don't feel afraid. My body, however, becomes very cold, and I tremble. I tremble hard. So given our current concern about Scott, I assumed that my feeling chilled was probably a physical manifestation of emotional stress.

This morning I took a walk. Last night had brought a hard frost, and even past 10:00 a.m. each grass blade and fallen leaf was outlined (when not completely covered) in its thick silvered-white. Halfway back to the house I knelt in the middle of the gravel road and cried, my hands in my lap, the stones pressing against my knees. When I thought I had my breath back, I lay down on the ground, my face buried in my arms. And this was good. There is a comfort in hard earth, in the chill of stone, in their solidness, their support along the body, their stillness. I lay there a long time, letting these soak into me, and if I went home feeling even colder than before, I also went home understanding that while I had been afraid of the cold after all, I don't have to be .

(Note: I discovered this afternoon that I am, indeed, running a fever, and I've been queasy all day, as has our older daughter. The stomach flu, I am told, is going around again. Ah, timing!)

9 comments:

I_Wonder said...

Warm blessings for you and your family.

Fieldfleur said...

Prayers for health and happy news,
Teri

Dawn said...

Thank you for being willing to share this time... my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

alaiyo said...

Love you and yours, LuCindy. Folks you met here are praying, too.

Beth

Cindy said...

Thank you all very, very much for the blessings and prayers. Paul, I saw yours before we left for the tests this morning and tucked it into my pocket to take with us.

Good news! We are told that this is an infection--that all other tests came back negative and normal. So there is much rejoicing and not a little silliness going on at PossumBox Lane this evening. :)

Dawn--Welcome to QL, and comment as much as you like. :) We've got something in common besides reading Randy and Jeremy's blogs, I see. (My middle name is Dawn.)

Blessings and light all round,
Cindy

Randy said...

Cindy...I love that you lay down in the middle of cold grass and just stay there.

You know why.

There is a level to your writing and then there is another level...and then maybe even some more levels.

yep.

Fieldfleur said...

I agree with Randy, lots of levels in your writing that are brutal (not always but when needed like this one:), beautiful and stirring. So glad that the test came out alright!
Yeah!
Teri

Cindy said...

Randy--Thank you. You are a comfort and an encouragement.

Teri--I'd never thought about applying the word "brutal" to my writing, but since the writers that often draw me the most strongly (Dillard, Sharon Olds, Mary Oliver) have the same mix that you speak of--brutality and beauty--I am flattered. Truly, it IS how I see the world.

Joyella said...

I was gonna say, "sounds like a fever," although I shiver when I am trying to share deep, personal, and sometimes difficult emotional things with others.