Sylvia's Journal

I find myself balancing on the head of a pin these days, teetering. Leaning to one side I appreciate what the calamity is bringing us, the care and concern, the freedom of not needing to pay attention to how I look, what I wear – I can be in my robe all day, we can eat beans and not worry about visitors entering our house and sniffing the air.

And then I teeter the other way. That feeling is painfully familiar from our plane crash. That first hour of panic and feeling so totally alone and bewildered. And then later, the despair, will I, will we, will things ever get better? 

Within minutes after the crash I knew I was not alone and there were helpers everywhere. I know this to be true in any calamity, close by or far away.  The bewilderment stopped as soon as one of the nurses told me I had only one task and should concentrate on it: get better. Healing is hard work and requires all hands on deck – no place for bewilderment – teeter back in position.

But now this bewilderment is there again, because the task of healing is too diffuse to get my head around. I am not sick, but maybe I am? When one of us coughs or sneezes, the other looks up. Is this reason for suspicion or simply part of an innocuous winter cold, a spring allergy?  

And then all the do’s and don’ts’s. Our daughter reminds us that anything coming from outside the house can contain the enemy because we don’t know where it has been, who has touched it. Our newspaper is delivered in a yellow plastic bag with an elastic band to keep the paper inside, on rainy days like today. Should I get the newspaper with cloves on? Remove the plastic bag and elastic band with gloves on? 

We know we are vulnerable, in a physical sense.  You learn that quickly when you fall down to earth. It’s reasonable, and reason is a thing of the mind. The feeling is more difficult to grasp. Right now, I don’t feel vulnerable although our daughters think differently. And that’s when I start to wobble on top of this pinhead.