Morning
Anew
Week Two.
Even with the Sun Goddess at my rooms window I had to argue myself from bed this morning.
Winning only in knowing I was responsible to get my wingman outside, feed him and tend to his medications to mitigate recent battle wounds.
Pulling my bones from the depth of the mattress, Indiana Jones might mistake as ancient, we looked the sorry lot making our way to the stairway.
He in his full harness so I might support him, me looking as if my hair stylist might be the outlet you plug power tool into.
Yet somehow we manage to slide our way down the carpeted u-way, and then out to the morning greeting.
The sedation still weighing heavily on his abilities, we waddle along like Pooh and Christopher Robbins.
I had fore-filled my promise to take care of him, and in doing so taken on the debt of an automobile, to pay for his emergency surgery.
He knew little of currency, or the distress of the expenditure, only that I was here by his side after a terrible ordeal.
While I had no idea how I would mitigate the new debt, for now I understood him to be safe, and that I had not lost another notch in what I thought a man must be.
The poor lads hair was worse off from mine considering the shaver for IV’s and knife. His 115 structure looking like a failed poodle cut performed by groomer in blindfold.
For this moment, none of it mattered, he was alive next to me, and I hadn’t failed, or fallen further.
I couldn’t explain or justify the feeling, but felt I had accomplished something as we made our way back into the house. Maybe I wasn’t such a bad bloke after all.
Life has a powerful means of clarifying priority.
