It’s been quiet around here and remains so as we’ve both been sick. Days of doing nothing but sleeping or, when we felt marginally better, binge-watching all ten episodes of 1883 (one of the prequels to the Yellowstone series which we have yet to see). Symptoms change as the virus reveals its many facets. Laurinda stops by with supplies a few times and texts a couple of times every day to check on us.
The literal fog we were under lifts and the bright Saskatchewan sunshine returns. Gerry (who got sick first and is getting better first) suggests a drive. So, we bundle up Maya, climb into the car, and head for the prairie, expecting it to work its magic.
We can be on the prairie in minutes by walking to the end of our street or, as we’re doing now, getting in the car and exploring. It’s the fulfillment of my lifelong dream. Even in my weakened state, I’m captivated by the endless view in all directions and wonder how it is that I’m so blessed to be able to live here. It still feels surreal sometimes.
Back in town, we watch kids and adults having a blast on a sledding hill and others, playing hockey on a rink on the river in the Wakamow valley. My throat is on fire, I suggest stopping for popsicles (old-fashioned orange ones). I stay in the car while Gerry runs into the store. I watch a young man wearing shorts pulling a child in a sled across the bare pavement in the parking lot. It’s -2C / 28F and one could easily imagine spring was just around the corner. I admire his optimism.
Back home, I settle in under a blanket in my cozy woman cave and let the popsicle soothe my throat. Gerry turns on something loud on the TV in the living room. I look out the window and see clouds forming. The best and brightest part of the day is behind us. I’m glad we took advantage of the opportunity to enjoy a slice of it.