With flair

How do you fare while going through a flare?
Since the whole past year was basically one long stretched flare, forced upon us…..
(double facepalm and painful eyeroll)
it’s something I have been thinking about every day.

See, with chronic pain-and flare ups, to be precise,
you feel like you were on a Kafkaesk auction.
Never been to a real one, nevermind this type, so you don’t know how it goes.
Yet, there you find yourself. Like in dreams, no idea how you got there,
but you’re in the centre of the a(u)ction.

You’re sitting there in one of the rows and exactly when the auctioneer says:
“Going once, going twice…”, you casually stretch your achy, carpal-tunnel hands in the air and you hear, while all eyes are on you: “Sold to the lady in row three!”

You then find yourself with a bundle of flare-ups, no returns accepted.

Perhaps that is what life is, really
and the times we find ourselves in, an insane auction-house in itself.

With a highly uncertain future for all and while trying to find some light in the days,
I’m pondering how full or how empty ‘the glass’ is (half-full, half-empty) and how I should proceed.
As a mother, my name is spelled h o p e and I think there is no other way
than making the fall part of the dance, as they say.

Some days you will be “ok, I’m done and here is the fall.”
With the grumpy-never-resting-wrinkle-inducing-face,
cursing both the darkness, the candle and the auctioneer. There you remain, on the floor.

Some days, although your hair (mine) looks like the birds will soon use it as their nest,
although you feel like you are being deconstructed by the pain,
although you are hanging on by a thread, …you still rise….It was the dance, obviously!
With clumsy moves, cliché words and used metaphors, but such grace and flair! 😉

May your days feel light ♡