The morning is a fade into grey. Peace is most marked after such a violent war. I look out the window and feel comfort in defeat. At least now I can see the potential a day may bring. Yesterday I heard tales of what could have been a beautiful day, saw light peeking in around long white blinds then buried my head deep into pillows and blankets. Mental notes of my last will and testament, whoever comes and cleans the house before Mom gets here can have everything.
On a scale of one to ten dehydration I say I reached eight and the few sips of Sprite I got down yesterday tasted like joy, little lemon lime bubbles of ecstasy. Not too much, I knew. My body had my attention. Any wrong move was met with severe and immediate disciplinary action. There were times I didn't even know what I had done, from what misdeed the punishment had come.
Had my body not read the Geneva Conventions, especially the bit about any form of indecent assault?
No, it had not. My body does not recognize international law.
Today I am better. Better than I was before the war. Not because I am stronger but because I have a new appreciation of a peace always afforded me but maybe at times taken for granted.
Gratitude on a Sunday morning with music and writing and making peace with my body.