Everyone in my house has been sick, really sick, for over two weeks now. Two weeks is, by some experts’ standards, long enough to establish or break a habit. In other words, having a house full of sick people is starting to feel normal. And it is filling me with compassion for people who live with or care for other who live with long-term illness.
So much revolves around illness. Schedules, appetites, and the ability to do seemingly normal chores somehow balloons into a perpetual wish list that is nothing short of totally aspirational. It took me until noon to get dressed yesterday, and until dinnertime to unload the dishwasher. And I’m not even sick.
I find myself yearning for regularity. When can we all go out and enjoy a trip to the park together? How might I just step out to run an errand without needing to do an hour’s worth of advance prep? Come to think about it, it’s also a bit like having an infant again. Except an infant in the house always felt joyful, despite the exhaustion. Being around sick people just fills me with worry. It isn’t joyful.
Despite it all, I am realizing exactly what I should be realizing in a situation like this. There is very little we need in life to be happy. And most of it exists within our own mindsets and the ability to look for what we can be grateful about under any set of circumstances. I am so thankful for my own health and so glad I can help the rest of the family to recover theirs.
By the way, my ten-year-old stepdaughter took this photoset while we were in South Lake Tahoe. Congrats to her on her first photo shoot with a “real” camera!
Thanks for reading! Wishing you the best possible Sunday.