Happy Fool

Last night felt good! Voted for the primaries in a tiny one room cinder block storage house, standing in line chatting with the locals (only room for two at a time). It had rained earlier, I learned; a good shower some said. Rural life has its bling. Social life continued amongst the parked cars, we weren't invited though. Our surnames aren't from around here. Thirty minutes later, pizza tasted good. I blipped around the kitchen cooking like a happy fool. Joking with family and laughing at the dog.

A rare look from my husband and daughter caught me off guard. Welcomed relief. Nostalgic happiness. My caregivers. What must this be like for them? To view illness and pain, up close and so personal. To be needed every day, day after day. I do my best. Asking for help did not come naturally for me. "Doing less" was even harder. House keeping has suffered and my sense of adventure is satisfied when I can get out of bed with a smile. I work hard to take care of myself, so that I can take care of them. It's the least I can do and often the only. I long for these moments of relief, happiness, a little fun, and hope for future greatness. The evening was memorable, I dreamt of rivers, woke with a smile, toes tapping.

Staying Alive! Staying Alive! oo oo oo oo Staying Aliiiii iiii iiii iiiive!
doodi doodo doo doo doodi do Staying Alive! Staying Alive!