How is everyone nowadays?
It totally seems like fall already in Seattle. It's 2:30 AM after a big game (UW) night.
The night outside is dark and quiet; I hear the rain come down harder once in a while. It's very soothing.
This summer has been a bit rough. It seemed, every little thing I did elevated my body temperature at night. This whole immune deficiency and chronic infections business has been trickier to treat than I thought -- a year ago, I was feeling all feisty and ready to beat it in a couple of months. (I'm competitive, so when they say "It takes a while for most people," I hear in my head, "Oh yeah? I bet I can beat it faster!")
The chronic Epstein-Barr (mono) and HHV6 viruses seem to be still well (?) and active in my body. The viruses and my temperatures have their ups and downs like a teenager's emotional drama. (I should maybe make a sitcom out of it.) I become weirdly sweaty and clammy at night; the cool-down patches (they should sell them here! It's a godsend) my mom sends me really come in handy, esp. when I have them chilled in the fridge. It feels so good on my forehead right about now.
But all those physical challenges aside, miracles are happening everywhere! And they provide me with joy and hope that the world is a nice place.
Exhibit A of a big miracle is the first picture above. He's my best friend Michiko's first baby! How adorable is he? I know, I know, they say we all become partial to the kids we are related to or associated with, but he is genuinely positively darling. I love his willful eyebrows and mouth. I can't wait to meet him some day!
Continued exhibit of a big miracle is the second picture of our dear niece Olivia. She's growing leaps and bounds, it seems like, and the way she really stares and observes people is uncanny (or so I hear). Look at those big eyes and pouty lips! I just wish I could touch her plump cheeks.
Next up: A small miracle. There are a lot of those. This year, since I wasn't feeling so hot, we were doing an ever-so-trendy stay-cation at home. I haven't even made it to downtown Seattle. But there are miracles you encounter precisely because you are spending your time slowly.
Our ancient camera's picture is not the best, but the third picture is the proof of our precious memory this summer! This spring I saw a hummingbird fly by, and in a faint hope one might come to our balcony, I started growing a pot of fuchsia. (Turns out there are huge bushels of fuchsia by the mall next door and everywhere in between, so the chances are slim a hummingbird will come to our meager one-pot wonder.)
In an attempt to feel summer-y despite persistently feeling horrid, Daniel and I did a lot of "Al Fresco!" dinners on our balcony. (It basically consists of eating our regular meals on our balcony and watching the sky and the birds and people who go by.)
One day we were having our Al Fresco dinner, and I noticed: One of the fuchsia flower looked like it was about to burst open. I pointed it out to Daniel, and at that moment, a petal went "pop!" (OK, so there wasn't really a sound, but it really felt like it went "pop!") Over the next five minutes or so, we blissfully watched other petals pop open one by one. By the end of the dinner, the flower was in its full glory. It was amazing. I mean, how many people get to witness a beautiful flower pop open, petal by petal, as it happens, with your one and only?
That was a miracle. We couldn't stop smiling that night. Such an experience probably wouldn't have existed if we had been jetting around, taking vacations like busy bees.
Over the past couple of years, we've shared a lot of emotions. Some heavy, some light, some painful, some delightful. I think we are very lucky to have done so. There have been experiences we couldn't have had if we had led "normal" lives, and our relationship is richer for that.
The rain is calming down... Maybe I'll challenge this thing called sleeping again :)