It was a very good end to the holidays this year.
As if to mark the transition between freedom and work, lightning struck near our house, charging through an electrical box directly into my leg and at the same time turning off a cell phone that had not been turned on. this year.
Then we got covid. Again. Just counted just three weeks and three days since our last recovery.
If you want to make statistics out of it, it means that we were sick 64.5 percent of the summer. Or 10 percent of this year.
Just in time for a fresh start in August, we are completely exhausted and everything we eat tastes like salty paper. And Darling, who is never sick, or has a sick day every two decades, is lying like a sedated elephant in bed. Day in and day out.
It’s terrible. It hasn’t been this awesome since the last time it was this awesome. Which is very recent.
Only after twelve days we go around a little carefully in the garden and see the effect of covid.
It is devastating.
Everything has grown again. All.
The big honeysuckle is like a monster. Weeds have grown for the waterfall in the pond, which instead of rushing nicely, drips with one sad drop, straight into a mass of green algae.
The gravel path is a breeding ground for everything that can plant a seed. All. Including small, small birches.
We have a little birch garden to do in the gravel path.
There is only one word for it.
Decline.
And that’s just the garden. Inside, unopened envelopes, dust mites, extra kilos, general despair and the emptiness of the fridge grow.
“He’ll never get away, this time!” I say confidently to Darling, where he sleeps away another afternoon.
But then the strange thing happens.
“I have reached my zero point!” said Darling suddenly one day with bright eyes.
And now we will live a NEW life, he concludes.
I, who am still an elephant – heavy, tired and unable to get up from the couch, am encouraged by Darling’s new liberation and lie there on the bed and draft a new life. And soon after, a sunny Sunday arrives with air that feels a little brighter. The sky is full of Canada Geese who have discovered that they DON’T have to go anywhere.
There are so many of them up there in the sky, so they leave a bit of a shadow on the lawn.
And we lay on the rattan sofa in the conservatory and rest until Sunday and feel something new.
As if we were all suddenly also going somewhere.
Up Outside. Onward.
And we chat and suddenly think about how amazing it was when you got your timetable for the start of school.
History 9.15. Run 10.00
And we remember how much fun it was to color those squares and I am encouraged that I decide to draw a new scheme.
And suddenly we feel how fun it is to fill that place, called life, again.
11.00 Clean the friggebode. 12.00 Break.
I can see the break before me, colored pink in my inner half and recorded by the sunflowers moving in the kitchen garden.
And I feel like we left something behind.
Sometimes you have to reach your zero point. Until then slowly rise up again.
2024-08-28 22:00:00
#reach #point
