Slapped.
The cold, welcoming me back to NYC. This is not how I wanted to come back, but the blustery cold welcomes me in as icy crosswalks remind me high heeled boots, while sexy, are not practical. Coughing from asthma, cramps, and horrid headache.
The music of Don Omar fills my head, and I remember dancing in a bikini in sand, new friends welcoming my smiles, my hands in the air...my mind was open, my heart was open, I felt open to everything new that was out there.
But here in NYC, I'm reminded of all. All that is lost. All that is cold, that is dead now.
Until I bake cookies for Grandma, and Nelson comes over to eat his share of the diabetic treats. Until my cough subsides. Until I arrive in sunny Florida, run 50 miles, play cards with Gram and the girls.
It will get better. Normal, settled, it's not so bad. I'm eating homemade amazing chocolate chip cookies (with Ghiradelli chips, the only way to make them).
1 comment:
Sweetie,
You are one of the toughest women I've ever met. You WILL be joyful again soon. And if there is anything I can do to help get you there, let me know right away.
xoxox
-Nat
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