Like many others on this day (and often throughout the year) , I attempt to list the multitudinous gifts I've been blessed with over the years. Family, country, opportunities, church, talents, friends, education, career, retirement -- a few that always appear on my list -- and the length of the list serves to remind me how truly fortunate I've been for my 63 years.
But as I treasure the past, I remain cognizant that I have far fewer days ahead than I have behind, and that every day since January 26th, 2005 has been a "bonus" day granted by God, for that is the day my stupidity resulted in a broken neck and a "flight-for-life" helicopter ride (which I have no memory of) to the trauma center. My recovery, which was successful and complete, stretched over 3 months, a relatively short period, but as my neck healed, I grew restless for the outdoors and for resumption of physical activity. The following poem acted as therapy as I waiting.
Treading Water
My life on hold, biding time,
merely treading water and spinning wheels,
sedentary waiting, existing,
but little living,
days measured more than enjoyed,
endured more than anticipated,
perpetual running in place without advancement.
Each day another grain of sand successfully
through the hourglass’ neck,
a day closer to recovery, to normal activity,
to swimming not treading,
but how many more grains must journey the bottleneck
before my neck journeys again?
Impatience muted by gratitude for life
and gratitude for mobility,
when death or paralysis had loomed near.
Impatience tempered by thankfulness
for each bonus sand grain added to my hourglass’ upper bubble.
Impatience moderated by appreciation
for concern shown by family and friends.
Impatience with self for my impatience.
But impatient nonetheless
as life’s sponge sits dry,
stiffening daily, atrophying,
needing to absorb life, to swell large
with activity, adventure, action,
and then be squeezed,
wrung dry
and availed of all it holds.
copyright 2005 by Chuck Morlock
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