This morning I woke up in the same bed I’ve enjoyed for many years, under covers of just the right weight and temperature. I expect to return to the same comfortable bed tonight. I did the lying down exercises I had been taught back in 2015 after my accident — physical therapy lessons, like all other treatments after the crash, covered by insurance. I lolled in bed for a while playing some games on my cell phone and checking emails, knowing I didn’t have to worry about the battery running low, because I’d be plugging it in as soon as I rolled out of bed, into an outlet that I was sure would provide the juice to recharge.
Once I was up I did more of my exercises accompanied by the local TV station emanating from an old but perfectly fine set nestled in my bedroom cabinet where other shelves and drawers house my supply of clothes from which I would chose todays outfit. (comfortable but not fancy – still pretty much confined to my sunny senior apartment, protected not only from the weather, but – more important – from the virus.)
Eventually I turned on my shower, confident that nice warm water would emerge from the shower head, allowing me to enjoy soap that I have in sufficient supply, aided by a washcloth and later a drying towel which I can keep clean in the washing machine in the laundry room.
And then breakfast, an adequate supply of nuts and fruit and eggs kept fresh in the refrigerator next to the stove on which I was confident I could cook my egg because the burners would turn on as soon as I dialed the appropriate knob.
Finally to my computer which usually responds to my command, like the other appliances that have enjoyed the adequate supply of electrical power.
Pretty standard stuff, unless you do – as I do every morning – think of the people who don’t have these things. No guaranteed source of power, maybe because no guaranteed place to sleep and eat, or maybe because where they live power is sporadic. Maybe no assured fresh food or warm water – even clean, pure cold water – ready on call. No insurance available to keep healthy teeth and bodies. So many people who don’t have these things I take for granted every day. Yes, I am filled with gratitude – and also pain for all those who suffer.
The other side of gratitude is awareness. Without both, life would be pretty empty, I think.
Just my ruminations on living another normal day – normal for us fortunate ones.
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