It’s a perfectly beautiful morning.
Yesterday’s rain is a distant memory.
It’s quiet, sunny.
A day full of possibilities.
I sit at my dining room table writing.
And think back to the last six weeks.
I had given up hope and my feelings were all tangled up in knots.
- My mother’s death.
- My slower than expected recovery (by me) from cancer.
- My resolve to prioritize what’s important and finding it hard to do so.
- My failure to show progress on my thesis and my decision to put it away for now.
- I wasn’t eating.
- I was barely moving. In fact, staying in bed was all I wanted to do.
Now, I sit at my dining room table. I feel myself returning to life. Or maybe life is returning to me.
At my lowest point, and out of desperation, my daughter said: get better for us because it’s clear you don’t want to get better for you.
That hit me like a dagger to my heart.
Maybe it was the reality check I needed. I don’t know.
What I do know is that my appetite is back, my energy is improving every day, and I feel closer to my self even as my self evolves into something new and better.
So, on this perfectly beautiful morning…
- I welcome back hope.
- I celebrate life.
- I affirm the desire to live again.
It’s a perfectly beautiful morning.
Elisa Waingort 
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