I guess you get the picture! Hanging in there with brain injury and Ralph Waldo Emerson

I guess you get the picture. We have a solid white sky with more on the way. Your house may look just the same this morning.  But look at that icicle. It is still hanging in there, literally, and changing daily.

I had a pretty rough day two days ago and was just very sad and depressed. Bill was sleeping all day and I was very lonely. I finally went upstairs to see a friend for a few minutes, but with the cell phone being reactivated during that four hours, I knew Bill would not be able to reach me.

Yesterday morning I found one of his medications on the floor. It is small but potent and I think it was the cause of his exhaustion.  We both had a good day yesterday, and with the storm of this century beginning already, we have a couple more days in the house.

This icicle gives me hope to Get a Foothold of my own sadness and depression, and keep letting the light shine through.  As it grows and reshapes, the crystals of the water glisten in the front door light and when it is out there, the sunshine.

I don't know what it is about me that keeps hanging in here like this icicle. There is a strength in the human spirit that actively seeks hope and joy.  I can see no other option than to find something to be happy about everyday. Yesterday Bill surprised me with his processing abilities. Twice!

He is a very quiet man, and off one of his medications for about a month now, I am beginning to see some improvements in his memory and linear connections.  Bill was an accountant and his mind always thought in a straight line, pure black and white.  It is has birthday soon and for once in his life he has asked for a gift that he wants.  An abdominal machine to get back into shape.  We looked at them online yesterday and think that we found an inexpensive one that will work and will order it next week. 

So even though the sun is not shining outside, and whiteout conditions exist, we will sit tight and stay safely indoors. And continue to look for the sunshine in ourselves and others.  Thanks for hanging in with me on this journey and helping me to get a foothold this week.  Your comments both inspire and guide me, and I read the to Bill who is often touched by them.

The following poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson heralds in today, aptly titled The Snow Storm. Dare I say I love New England in the winter? This poem adds a quality of joy and hope to my day.

The Snow-Storm

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The steed and traveler stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come see the north wind's masonry
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs; and, at the gate,
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structure, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

Photos by Ginger Bristow Gaitor, Poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson