Many of my best times here at the Holmes house come in rocking chairs on the front porch.
Last evening Jessica and I sat as the light softened around us, talking in quiet tones about our respective days. I shivered in the chilly air and Jessica suggested going inside. I am having an asthma attack, I told her. And tachycardia. I didn’t want to take albuterol because that accelerates heart-beats. I need the oxygen, I explained.
Jessica looked at me and said, Well, I’m glad you’re out here then.
Exactly. Item one on the list of positives. Check.
Night fell and my evening progressed. Eventually I mindlessly cruised the internet lost in thought, far into a sleepless night. I found myself making lists. Things which are right; things which are wrong; things that I can do; things that I can’t do.
Things that I am; things that I am not.
I fell asleep at two a.m. and I will swear that I felt a flutter of angels around me; swear I heard them whispering, You are enough.