I have been gone again. I'm terribly sorry. It couldn't be helped. A week ago, more or less, the family gathered together at my mother's for an annual dinner. We came. We ate. We left with either a virus, or possibly, a bubbling morass of bacterial cultures, virulent enough to attack and take down every adult family member. The little kids were unscathed, but they tend to just eat desserts and chase each other around the yard out in the fresh air. A strategy I might adhere to in future.
The first night of illness was an epic onslaught. Yes, I was onslaughting like crazy and I was reminded of my own mortality. I clung to my bed for three days after. Then began the battle for normalcy. Well, normal for me. As of yesterday, my stomach has stopped feeling like a huge heavy weight, tender to everything I swallow. All that remains is that bit of depression that seems to follow an illness. I have hopes of being back into the light completely tomorrow.
There is something about spending long periods of time swaddled in that suspended animation known as illness that does something to your mind. You tell God that you will be good from now on. You'll be kind to animals and small children, and possibly even strangers..... on occasion and if they don't smell funny. You tell yourself that when you are strong again, you will do great things.
I've gotten past that stage. My promises to God have been chalked up to feverish dementia and I'm feeling kind of sorry about that too. Something that did bubble up while ill was the memory of promising myself that I would someday try to write a book. I try to keep my promises, even ones to myself. So, I am going to write a book.... probably a really sucky book. Isn't that exciting!? I will add my name to the extensive list of two bit, second rate, less then necessary authors. To compensate, I will do my best to have a real nifty cover.
Then I need to try and reconsider all of those God promises.