Palms Up

I've been on vacation these past few days as I research and post. My own five star spa. Dan drove me over to my parent's house, over the mountain passes, past the thick west side clouds breaking through to pale blue sky and the sun bleached hills. It's already summer over here, weather in the 80's. The best kept secret of Washington state. My parents are on a road trip with friends, so Dan encouraged me to take advantage. It was a major ordeal to pack, not only the planning for all of the treatments, but also planning for groceries. My mom's car is parked at the house, and she told me I could use it, but I have yet to drive again since the seizures, and I'm not interested in pushing it, so I knew I needed to bring everything I could possibly need. Just as life goes, though, it all happened during another dietary shift, so I don't have enough stuff for my green drinks. I'm pitifully rationing my last avocado making my green smoothies really runny. Oh well. There are worse things in life.

It is so peaceful here. I feel so free. The house is bookended by vacation homes, and since it's the middle of the week, I've got this wing of the neighborhood to my whimsy. I've been gardening around the patio in my nightie, and jogging up and down the hill to the river in my bathing suit with Emma. In the mornings, I've enjoyed a sloppy version of yoga (or glorified stretching) on the gazebo overhanging the water. I do it with my headphones, my own dancing yoga party. I stretch my arms out to my side, palms up, jutting my sternum to the sky, and inhale a life breath, my body smiling. The term "life breath" sounds so cheesy, but it's the best way to describe it. I watch the wisps of white patches ribbon across the baby blueness. I'm all yoga deepness, and Emma is all acrobatics.

I wander back up to the house and put Coldplay's, Magic video on repeat, and I get to work. That's the beauty of being alone, you can do annoying things like listen to the same song hundreds of times in a row. When my head feels like it might explode from the research, I sneak out the side door with my headphones and slip into the hot tub. I read a book, or just sit in the soothing water throwing a tennis ball for my lady friend. She's my sidekick. She loves the dance parties too, doesn't even care if she can't hear the music.

Dan should be here in a few days. I can't wait for him to get to enjoy the privacy here. Our home is literally on the sidewalk. The house is on a triangle lot and two of the sides are literally bordered by people walking by. Just windows everywhere and curious eyes constantly. I have to wear real clothes because people are always peering in. We call it our fishbowl (or in the winter it's the igloo). I am in heaven wearing jammies right now. I'm in heaven with my silly dance moves. I am unabashed. I am carefree. It's this perfect juxtaposition of serious mental taxation at the computer, and outside the french door it's sunshine, cool breeze, and the sun on your skin. I feel like a unique flower getting the sustenance of knowledge and the nourishment of nurture. I feel myself growing.