Ever since I received the dreaded diagnosis last week of osteoporosis in my spine, I have been dreaming of hawks. They showed up and began devouring little birds and littering my dreams with the broken bodies. I often have vivid dreams, and these were no exception. Only I let myself interpret them through the lens of my aging body. Perhaps it isn't exactly fair to lay blame on age. Really, it's my size that made me vulnerable. I'm small-boned, and probably never reached maximum density. Now my bones are simply not rebuilding as quickly as they are breaking down. They seem to be turning to dust while I'm still using them. I am weighing my options. The hawks have paid me their visit. They have looked at me with their red eyes, their yellow eyes. I have stared unflinchingly back. Perhaps there is a truce in the offing, and I will be the little bird that flies faster and gets away.
in devolution
time hollows precious bone
turns mammal into bird
It has been grand to be away, reading blogs, but not feeling compelled to write something here. We love this new-found freedom. We are in the waning days of winter. Buds and blossoms are everywhere. Roger is building a compost bin. I've just finished reading Thom Hartmann's Screwed: The Undeclared War Against the Midddle Class. A thoughtful and well-researched look at the dismantling of the middle class since the Reagan years. If you really want to go extra crazy, definitely pick this book up. You'll finish wanting to storm Washington DC with your pitchforks and torches demanding a restoration of our constitutional right to happiness and a general welfare.
We'll be back again soon. How are y'all?
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