I came down with a fierce cold Friday that persisted through today. I feel ucky and swollen and drippy.

It has been a sick, long, and - did I mention sick? - winter. I am glad that it is now officially spring, and my lilacs are in bloom.

With the flowers comes an unbearable sweetness of Bear. He offers me piles of freshly plucked dandelions and handfuls of fallen petals from the fruit trees crushed in his chubby hand.

I savor them all, carefully putting them in water. In the garage, I have a bags of "special fertilizer" that will obliterate these weeds to a chemical hell from wence they best not return. In my office, however, they're drooping bouquets that we pretend are soup and make me all better.

He sings to me, and pats my hair, and tucks the yellow buds behind my ear.

I pull him tight until he squirms and I thank him sincerely. Pleased, he runs off to gather more. To heal me.

And I don't let him see me cry, the crushing fleetingness of these moments doped up on Dayquil and pressing my heart.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:54 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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