I rest this afternoon. I told my brother this has taken the wind out of my sails, and he said maybe it is time for me to drift, and so I am. I think I never really understood what happened. I never felt I had cancer. Perhaps this is a way to get in touch with all I have been through.
I drift a bit this afternoon with the book Treehouse Chronicles. The author says, "I love solitude. I love quiet. I love when the bombardment of today's world winds down." I realize I don't need a treehouse to allow that. I can do it right here. He calls his treehouse his "Thoughtful Spot," a place where, like Winnie the Pooh, he can "work the fluff out from his head."
Spend the evening perhaps in a treehouse of your own imagination. There is always a place to soar, and ground. Be like the birds. Rise up and down.