There’s nothing like a personal crisis to get you motivated to write again.
A few weeks ago, my husband had a household accident that resulted in a head injury and severe concussion. Thankfully, he is on the mend and expected to have a full return to “normal” — whatever “normal” is, I’m not sure I remember. I won’t bore you with the details but all you need to know is that it has been a nightmare.
The nightmare has played out during the first few weeks of a new baseball season. Now that we have passed the crisis zone, I can look back and see that if a crisis had to happen, it could not have happened at a better time. Uncharacteristically, the Red Sox played several day games during those first few weeks. Those games droned on in the background while my husband napped in his recliner and I sat ready to jump into action whenever he needed anything. Before the accident, he would be annoyed that another game was on. These past few weeks, he would ask, “What time is the game today?” Progress.
I remembered what I had always known — The healing power of baseball. The low-key, soft voices, the slow pace of play, the sounds that can let you drift off or keep you awake — whatever you choose. Just enough entertainment to let you relax and take your mind off your problems. The healing salve of a baseball game.
As I relaxed into this nurse’s role that I did not choose I was then able to pick up a quilt project while watching a game and do some hand-quilting — something I have not done in years. The soothing power of the quilting stitch that I had forgotten came back to me.
Friends came out of the woodwork. Friends bearing casseroles, flowers, groceries, emails, texts, love and support. The friends that asked first about me and then about my husband gave me permission to feel a little bad for myself. I needed that in order to feel it and then move on.
Friends, baseball, quilting. They all have one thing in common. When you hold them in your arms, they hold you back and don’t let go.