Silence. All around me right now, I hear the quiet of my dog stretched out on the rug. The breaths in and out as my husband sleeps in the chair. The fake fire flames quietly dancing in the light. The sun filling the space behind me.
It is a comfort, this silence.
In our world filled with chants and gun fire, this silence feels blessed. Like a pause before the next shocking burst of evil. Evil that must be stopped at all costs. I have marched many times in my life for peace and equal rights. I thought we’d all won. I am so mad and sad to see other’s fears kill innocent loving people.
It is grace, this life.
I sit here heartbroken and hopeful. Terrified and tenderly listening to life with gratefulness. My husband is alive and recovering. A few weeks ago, I was sitting on the floor, begging him to open his eyes. Tapping his face in desperation while I dialed 911.
He was just making breakfast. I was pouring juice when I felt a nudge, a tingling, an alarm. I looked up and his face was losing color as he stirred the eggs. I went over, put my hands on his upper arms and guided him down. Down to the floor, where he slumped.
It is strength, this breath.
They came in with calm strength and went straight to work. Oxygen brought breath back. Monitors checked the beating heart. A woman in uniform asked what happened while others revived him and asked him questions.
Soon, we were on our way to the hospital. They talked to him in the back. I could hear him respond. They took him to emergency. I was told to go to the waiting room. Soon we were together again in a small room with beeping machines.
It is relief, this help.
Of course, there were tests and waiting. But he was awake, talking and getting fluids. He tested positive for RSV, this year’s flu. They found a ‘blip’ on his heart monitor and they wanted to keep him and check it out. So he stayed overnight.
I went home alone. But we texted. He had a good salmon dinner. I managed terrible microwaved eggs and cheese. I cried tears of relief.
It is still scary, this recovery.
But we are ok. He eats and reads and walks around the house. Each day picking up the pace and doing stairs. I take his blood pressure and he has sent in his heart monitor. He’s been to his PCP and all is going as expected when you have this flu.
I am the one who cooks now. We’ve traded off on this task over the years due to work schedules. He’s a much better breakfast cook than I am, but I’m learning. Last year, he had to do it all for me and now, I do it all for him. We’ve always shared the home turf equally.
It is horrible, this violence all around us.
But it is it also wonderful, this help from strangers.
These dedicated men and women who save lives everyday. They are the true heroes. They are true Americans. They are the ones who show us who we truly are with their compassion, courage and strength.
