It is a constant aspiration, its acquisition a deep desire in me – but it is elusive. Always. I lay in bed last night, wide awake at 1am from the throbbing in my arm trying to detach myself from it. I wasn’t distressed, just too alert for sleep. Give me grace. It may take 6 months she told me. And she was kind and gentle and she did help but it was a shock. She thinks I’ve fractured possibly both my shoulder and elbow, small breaks but breaks after all. It needs rest but also I must move so that the muscles don’t stiffen. It’s a hard one, that, the balance. I try to do what I can and to not allow the self pity to unsettle me. Onward, Ellen. It is nothing compared to the pain some must endure, often for a lifetime. Small steps, he used to say.
That flat along South Marine still has its window covered in signs telling us to WEAR MASKS, WASH HANDS and so on. I feel rather like I am being shouted at when I pass by. Will it always be so?
