Sylvia's Journal

I have noticed something about the quality of the conversations we are having, with ourselves, our daughters, friends, neighbors, colleagues and even people we hardly knew.
These conversations include the entries in the Caringbridge guestbook (Alison’s entries read like a journal of their own), emails we receive, phone conversations, letters and cards and the words that come with and through the gifts that keep appearing in our mailbox. As it turns out, much of these conversations are, one way or another, about vulnerability and joy. If I had to pick two words to describe this summer it would be those two.

Vulnerability is what got this whole adventure started. When the plane went down we were utterly vulnerable, strapped in our seats with only one exit door and no time to escape. But our bodies went limp as we blacked out which may account for why many body parts emerged unscathed. We have been vulnerable ever since to further emotional and physical injury (pain, hospital infections, falls, withdrawal from narcotics, frustrations, anxieties and worries) and yet our mental and physical health is improving day by day; we were vulnerable to attack, censure, and criticism (from insurance companies, lawyers, the FAA, etc.) but we weren’t damaged by these, or someone stepped in to protect us. We have been vulnerable to temptation, to stand on that leg, to have that glass of wine, to take more or less than the prescribed medicine but we were able to resist, sometimes on our own, sometimes with help from others. And finally we have been vulnerable to pretend that we are better than we actually are, stronger, keeping up some appearance that we kept up before and in which we were heavily invested.

I have worn this vulnerability like a cloak and it has served me well. In Dutch the word for vulnerable is ‘kwetsbaar’ which is what you’d say of a very ripe piece of fruit: it can very easily be damaged. But if handled with care and eaten at the right time, the joy of eating the fruit is nearly indescribable. And so it has been with us these last six weeks: we have been handled with extreme care by everyone and it has released an unspeakable amount of joy in our relationships with each other. And this is what has changed the conversation: by being vulnerable with one another we can laugh and love more fully because it comes with all its strings openly attached: to fears, to tears, to anxieties and pain.

Axel was out all morning yesterday on a doctor’s appointment. There may be much wrong with the American health system but we are blessed with caring doctors who make time for us and are totally involved in our recovery. He returned exhausted but grateful while I was outside having a nice time over a delicious leftover lunch with Katie Blair. I am starting to get more involved in the administrative duties that Sita had taken over and felt both totally accomplished and totally exhausted doing only two simple tasks during the entire afternoon. I am also starting to catch up on my professional reading as part of easing back into work a couple of weeks from now.

Dinner came from the Quakers. Scott, another food artist like Fatou, had prepared a great meal which was delivered with Wednesday’s meal by Carole Rein. Sita’s friend Christopher stayed with us and added some mussels which he had picked out of the cove earlier. After that Axel, Sita and Jim went to Jim’s parents to watch the Red Sox. Tessa and I declined and went to bed. Some lost, some won.