A Link and a Poem
Olivia is on the couch and the room is darkened. That's what you do when you have pink eye or "The Insufferable Pink Eye" as she titled her drawing this morning. She doodled super-hero cats with tiny droppers that magically banished itchy eyes while we sat in a waiting room for close to two hours.
It is good to be home. I just put drops in her eye and rubbed some essential oils on her feet. Immupower. Lemon. Lavendar. Soon we will share some chamomile tea. The tea bags make great compresses for the eye afterward. Very soothing.
Last night we ohhed and ahhed over tiny paper art and you must see them too. Tiny constructions in cardboard (toilet paper size) rolls.
My only other offering to you is a poem that stayed with me all week.
It's by Tess Gallagher
I Stop Writing the Poem
to fold the clothes. No matter who lives
or who dies, I’m still a woman.
I’ll always have plenty to do.
I bring the arms of his shirt
together. Nothing can stop
our tenderness. I’ll get back
to the poem. I’ll get back to being
a woman. But for now
there’s a shirt, a giant shirt
in my hands, and somewhere a small girl
standing next to her mother
watching to see how it’s done.
The busy weekend we planned with it's dance company try-outs, birthday party and playdate looks to be instead a simple one at home while Olivia recovers. Cuddling with movies, books and things to draw and stitch sound like the direction we will be headed.
Hope your weekend is a lovely one.