The Grind
This certainly feels like winter in Texas. My fancy watch says it’s 46. That’s most likely the temperature from the weather station down by the river or even the one in Horseshoe Bay used by the NOAA. Hard to know sometimes where the data streams are streaming from. I’ve talked about getting my own thermometer. Today’s probably the day. It would be nice to peak outside and spy the local temperature. Local as in my yard, my porch.
Had a nice dinner with friends last night. We all sat in the kitchen and talked as I cooked. Baked some apples for dessert. Roasted asparagus drizzled with olive oil and covered in hand shredded Parmesan. Browned some hamburger, onions, and mushrooms, dropped in mushroom soup with a dollop of sour cream and half glass of red wine for color. Served that over rice. We drank whiskey and wine. It was indoor weather, and it was all fine.
Not much in store today until this evening when I meet a friend for dinner out. In the meantime, it will just be cold and wintry, and I’ll worry about another friend who is having a hard time today. Sometimes I wish there was someone who could actually lay hands and take away pain. But that would be a miracle, and they seem hard to come by. Although maybe the miracle is still there it’s simply more prosaic. Maybe it’s the good fortune to have friends, like my dinner guests, and family, like my own, who are willing to be there and lend a hand and pick you up and give you comfort and carry you forward until you’re able to walk on your own and get around. People who help keep the grief and worry from grinding you down because they care and they love you.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: The Caregiver’s Tale