reality TV

i've used this before, but seemed appropriate

i cup water to my face. warm & wet, it collects in my beard, works at the bits of breakfast, last night's dinner-everything that just vacated my stomach, which still clings to me. having a beard and vomiting don't mix & always at these moments, i think of shaving it. then decide just not to vomit again. as if.

more water, i catch some in my mouth, swish, spit. run my tongue around my mouth. more water, swish, spit. wet my hair back. look in the mirror, decide that is not a good idea. inhale. exhale. reteaching the rhythm of breathing to my roiling stomach. small glittering jewels of wet reflective worlds fly from my beard with each exhalation.

i don't get sick often, but when i do, i do it with style. the last night of our honeymoon, we spent in the hospital. then once on the trip home. every couple years. clockwork.

the water from the faucet curls round my finger to continuing heading gravity's call to the teeth of the drain. i don't know how long i have been watching it. reach up and turn the knob. pop the top on the plastic case and slide the thermometer in mouth. it's cold under my tongue.

on the other side of the door, i hear my boys playing, the television on, their friends. they have been playing football outside. i watched them out the window until i could take it no longer and sought relief.

beep

101.6, not bad, could be worse.

'hey honey, science confirms it, i am hot'

toweling my face, i open the door, ready to brave the fifteen steps to the couch.

'why don't you go downstairs and take a nap.'

so i do, secure in the knowledge, or delirious enough to believe.

a field of flowers becomes butterflies circling the sun, all the colors an artists brush can render to the tune of Mozart turned Godsmack...Godsmack? Godsmack?

'hello,' awake again, i mumble, phone to my temple.

'hi Sonbuck, saw on Facebook where you were not feeling well. how are you?'

'my will is in the top drawer of my bedside table.'

she laughs, 'well make sure you drink plenty of fluids and get rest.'

'i am. i will.'

silence, sigh.

i take a pen from among my books and pen this on a blank page in the back of one of them, because it's the intimate details that intrigue us, and knowing them, make us feel better about our own lives. i'll even put it in on of those pseudo haiku for you.

stringy meat flecks,
indistinguishable multi-color vegetable matter
clog the drain.

ah, don't you feel better already?

i do.

Actually, I feel much better today after nearly 48 hours of the stomach flu...nasty stuff...thanks to all who gave condolences yesterday. smiles. And today, I actually celebrate ~ get my 24 month chip ~ for being Facebook free. This is for the 1653 friends that I am sure have been wondering about me these last 2 years. Smiles. I am alive and well.