Oh honey, those memes about January having 140 days have never been more accurate than this year.
And yet, miraculously, we find ourselves at the end. Finally.
Once at the end of 2023 (yes, more than a year ago), when the temperature was bitter and there was ice everywhere, I was in the house for 12 days straight. Now, that is the low end.
Yes, my car is back home. And yes, I have a wheelchair and three walkers from which to choose.
But the walkers are very scary now and the wheelchair requires a patient, huge person to operate it while I continuously scream that a) he’s going too fast and b) I am gonna die.
There are not many takers for that unpaid position.
So it’s just better for everybody if I stay in.
The kindness I have received is overwhelming. Visits all by themselves are lovely, but they often come with baked treats or spendy coffee or sometimes, overwhelming handmade gifts that are so thoughtful and so surprising they make me cry.
A recent visitor said that everybody in town is talking about me and is worried about me.
I guess that’s what happens when I haven’t been to Mass since August or inside the post office, the town’s gossip center, in a year.
Better days are ahead, God and the surgeon willing.
Somehow, we have made it out of the dark bleak hole of January.
A week of 40 degree temperatures and bright sun does wonders for the mental health.
And I can gradually see it staying lighter at night.
February is just 28 days and has some birthdays to celebrate, as well as that mid-month day for maybe a really nice dinner (although getting it delivered would be a huge bonus).
I am not wishing away the days. Actually, it’s the opposite around here.
Days with no appointments, when I stay in all day with the ancient dog, are great days.
I tell folks that if the front door is open, visitors are welcome.
The ones who come frequently don’t even call anymore, they just show up.
No one needs to bring anything. Having someone other than the dog to talk to is enough of a treat. They may catch me snoozing, because I don’t sleep very well at night. But that’s okay too.
These days I am hatching a plan to thank all of these people who have been so kind to me over all of these months. It has been a long time and the list is very long.
It will still be some time yet before I am able to put it into action, but it gives me something to think about.
In the meantime, if you have called or texted or sent a card; if you have bopped in to tell me what’s going on across the street or in town; if you have brought baked goods, wine, coffee or other, just know that every single minute of your time and every thing is gratefully appreciated.
Sally Ann Shurmur can be reached at: SallyAnnShurmur@gmail.com
