Earlier in the week I looked over to see my dog completely asleep, but sleeping in such a childlike way - curled up on her side, with her head on a pillow. I watched her for awhile, not just feeling the warmth of the fire in the room, but the warmth of such a precious moment.
My last week has also been dominated by some pain and discomfort due to an infection and a virus hitting my body at the same time. On Wednesday I nearly lost myself to it - it frightened me with its severity, and I ended up frightening Xin with how shockingly I coped with it. All thoughts of breathing through the pain and discomfort fled, and I just wanted to be a child again - wishing someone else would take the pain away so I didn't have to deal with it any more. We considered going to the hospital more than once, but I ended up gathering the pieces of myself back together and heading home, to ease myself through the process. Many mugs of tea, warmth, kindness from Xin, and familiar YouTube videos helped, and I was able to cope and head to see a doctor - one I had never seen before, as it was a last minute appointment - who was one of the kindest and most sympathetic doctors I had come across in years. Little rays of hope and comfort can come in times when you wanted to just stop coping.
Here a few other gentle moments that I have loved: sitting next to the fire with Bronte curled up next to me, reading a book on my iPad; playing Child of Light with Xin; multiple mugs of tea in a soup mug that I unearthed during the Great Clearing Out of 2014; small gifts from wonderful friends who know me so well; conversations and planning of adventures with my reading friend (she knows who she is).
And, finally, hearing the call of kookaburras almost every day. For some reason I smile every single time and feel connected again.
Love to all who read.