Monday, March 24, 2008

spring fever

For the past few weeks I have been fighting a cold. The cold won.
This past weekend was another lost weekend; I slept it away, getting up to swill Nyquil, drink juice and growl at my long suffering husband...
In and out of fevered dreams, I would have half awake memories tugging at me.
The past kept tapping at my dreams, inserting true life images, which became distorted as I drifted in and out of slumber...
I remember as a child I had the measles and my mother held me on her lap under a blanket so the light would not damage my eyes and rocked me while I listened to the sounds of the family; the television playing, news followed by a show with a canned laugh track, my father turning the pages of the newspaper, the scratching of my brother Paul's pencil on paper as he did homework, the rhythmic creak of the old platform rocker that I can hear to this day.
I remember the smells too; the cherry almond scent of Jergens lotion on my mother's hands as she felt my forehead for fever, my sister's Noxzema, my father's cigar, the smell of dinner recently cooked and eaten. I remember feeling safe, even though I was sick and feverish. In my dreams, I long for that safety again. I no longer have a mom to care for me, a father to dote on me and older siblings to baby me...
I am a grown woman, middle aged, independent, grumpy as h*** when I am sick. But inside, I am that feverish 5 year old, wanting a cool drink, the sheets smoothed and a gentle hand on my brow. Really, aren't we all?

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