mourning

curling up in a chair
feet tucked under
book in hand

running up the stairs
in a rush
with springs in my feet

sleeping all night
rolling over and stretching long and wide
waking refreshed and full of life

scrambling up a muddy bank
hanging precariously from a branch
while getting that shot

bending to brush my teeth
bending to pick up the milk
bending to reach my shoes

squatting near to the ground for an age
following bugs and beetles
chasing grasshoppers

getting out of the car
just by simply getting out of the car
and standing up

walking for miles
up hill over tussocks
down rough woodland paths

even mowing the lawn
vacuuming the carpet
scrubbing the sink

just existing
without the constant awareness
of the pain

 

I know I should be concentrating on the positives of what I can still do, but it’s hard when I’m mourning the loss of the simple things due to this constant pain 😦

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