Woke to the sound of downpour this morning but the sky is now brightening a little in ombre shades of mauve and blue grey. Ah November, last gasp of autumn’s splendor.
November is a welcome month this year. It marks the three-month point of my twenty-three year old daughter’s recovery from a sudden, unprovoked deep vein thrombosis and pulmonary embolism. I spent much of late summer and early fall learning everything I never wanted to know about blood clots. Like many parents, I’ve gone through some difficult things with my kids, but this one pretty much took the cake. I still can’t quite write about it without a sweep of panic. Things are ok now, we’re adjusting to a new normal that includes life long blood thinners. I’ve never been so thankful for the progress of science and medicine, for kind, philosophical specialists and for healing.
Learning to breathe again, to not live in constant fear, to allow the larger the world to return to focus is continuing to be a process. Striving to ‘become something‘ (an art conservator, a graduate, whatever) no longer seems as essential as simply being and being present when it matters most. I read a lovely thing this morning written by French philosopher and Nobel prize-winning author, Albert Camus.
“When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that a man can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding him. In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” ― Albert Camus
Happy Fall. Happy Winter. It’s nice to be back.