I feel as though this has been another year of living sickly. The first half of the year was given over to my abdominal aortic aneurysm—prep for surgery, surgery, recovery. January to July. It’s been such a fog I can’t even find on my calendar the date I went in for the surgery. Then somewhere in August, feeling better after the surgery, I hurt my back, by thinking I was young again, and lifting a heavy thing. Then last week my gut decided not to work. The doctor says it was most likely a virus. Great.

Right at this moment I feel a real tendency to wallow in the muck and misery of pain and discomfort. To be heartily sick of being sick or sore, and to feel extra sorry for myself because I had to do it alone, since my wife died four years ago this August. And say what you will about marriage, one of the benefits is having another person right outside the door waiting and worrying while you’re lying there cramping and crying.

But that was then, and this is now and a lot of people I know are flying solo and going through things, so I just need to buckle up and get on with it. And I will because, I’m actually pretty good at that, getting on with it. After all, I’ve done a lot of fun things this year, too. Taken trips, listened to music, made music, ate good food, hugged people I loved, and the year’s not over and there are still things to do. Plus, it rained again yesterday, and everything is green, and a Carolina Wren is singing in the big oaks, the swallows have gone home for winter, and my gardens are looking good.