Breakfast

On the weekends, especially a bright sunny one, I like to eat my breakfast in the bedroom in front of our french doors facing the water. I carry a tray in, set it on the ottoman and watch the morning DIY shows or other shows I have taped during the week.

Well, for some reason, yesterday morning, I thought about how I first got home from the hospital. I was so out of balance and couldn’t carry anything, or bend over at all. Sweet Dave used to get my cereal, hard-boiled egg, juice, milk and sometimes tea for me and carry it in to the bedroom for me on a tray. How far I’ve come since then. Thankfully so.

Again, I am reminded of how lucky I am. I most certainly could have been far more severely impaired. Not being able to work, or worse, not being able to see or fend for myself.

The fact that I was able to work outside in my garden yesterday, clearing debris and checking on my “babies”, is wonderful. Lucky and very fortunate to be here.

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