The sun is gradually warming the ground and the breezes are often (not always) warm enough to hint at the potential for summer.I'm drawn to head outside, to feel the air on my skin, although I can't, to feel my hair blow in the breeze, though I can't, to feel the growing grass between my toes, though I can't.
I want to hug my daughter, though I can't, tousle my youngest son's hair, though he's in Scotland and he wouldn't let me anyway, laugh with my middle son, though he lives far away. I want to go back to work, though they won't have me, dig a vegetable garden, though it would hurt me to do it, grow roses, though I seem to kill them randomly...
Despite the multiple barriers I face, something is tickling under my numb ribs. It's like a tiny plant, reaching upwards toward the light, and every day without pain makes it grow quicker. Maybe, maybe, I am getting a bit better. I hardly dare say it, lest I jinx it. But maybe....
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