I’m so sorry to be starting off the new year with a fizzle rather than a bang, but instead of being back home as we had intended, my husband and I had to rebook our flight on account of fevers, congestion, chest wracking coughs – what I somewhat fondly have begun calling “the family plague.” It has spread along the chain of those of us who came to the family reunion, but originated, I believe, in four or five other cities, with cousins and mothers and children who cough without covering their mouths.
If I had been at home when this struck, I might have spent quiet hours reading and napping with tea, but I was not. I was with far-flung family I hardly see but dearly love, so I pushed and talked and medicated until midnight or later for five nights in a row, and now I have to pay the price.
In this case, the price has been precious memories made hazy by the amount of Tylenol and Sudafed I have consumed, and, well, my health. Not small sacrifices, I assure you, but I am determined to remain optimistic! I will see you back here on Monday, hopefully with a different story to tell.