The art of life is a constant readjustment to our surroundings. (Kakuzo Okakaura)
“Are you hot in here?” Jay calls from the living room.
I’m not. But warm air rises and my body doesn’t reach that far off the ground. Besides, my short frame doesn’t want to leave the frame of a bed. I spent two hours in the deep end of the pool at the Y and then went out to dinner with some of Jay’s family. My idea of a great vacation day. Now I am ready to revitalize—from a horizontal position.
“Well, the thermostat reads eighty degrees,” Jay announces.
I’d like to say he needs new bifocals; his vision is A-OK.
This is not a good sign. My headache, the one that develops at four in the morning, doesn’t help. The heat inside my skull battles with the heat in the air. So far, no winner.
Hours later we discover our cooling system has a leak. So does the checkbook. Service calls on a holiday cost extra. I have grown so accustomed to comfort that I didn’t realize how old the system was. It will make it this year. Probably. Next year? Maybe.
I have an incredibly blessed life. Sure, I’ve experienced trials. I didn’t think I would make it through some of them. But, that was yesterday’s vision. I don’t live there. Nevertheless, remembering what it was like during the ugly times helps me empathize with people who walk through them now. Sometimes they barely breathe from one moment into the next. Walking isn’t necessarily an option.
So I guess trials have their purpose, too. Comfort from someone who has existed on cushioned silk is empty.
Cool air flows around me. It is a gift. I celebrate the luxury and at the same time wish I could spread it around, extend the temperature control into a troubled, ugly, world. I pray that I stop taking what I have for granted. Give more. Complain less. A constant readjustment. At least until I reach perfection. And that isn’t on my to-do list. Even into a fantasy world like the one I created in “The Curse Under the Freckles.”
Even in magical realms there are limits.
Readjust…readjust…readjust…
terrypetersen 