I’ve officially had enough. I’ve had the flu for six days, my parents have both had it longer, and everybody is over it. And yet, like the unwelcome houseguest that it is, it continues to linger. I’ve spent most of the last twenty-two hours sleeping. I fell asleep at nine-thirty last night after posting the blog and slept until after noon today, waking up only twice, once to eat and take some medication, once to use the restroom. Today I woke up for breakfast then immediately went back to bed. This is apparently my new routine–eat, sleep, eat, sleep some more.

When I am awake, I’m fully aware of my aching body–my aching hips, my aching throat, my aching eyeballs. I’m also fully aware that every body part I possess is capable of sweating, even my kneecaps. My bed sheets are beyond gross. Much like the t-shirt I wore for five days before I showered yesterday, they’re covered in sweat, snot, and dead skin. They look like a dandruff commercial. It’s disgusting.

Much like my physical state, my emotional one continues to drag. I’m irritable, short. I’m finding myself less than gracious. I’m ready to go back to sleep again, to wake up and find it springtime. When will this winter be over?

I’ve been thinking today about my strong tendency to fantasize a better future. I often imagine that “as soon as this winter is over, everything will be perfect.” I do this with my body too, imagine a time when I won’t have any problems. And yet each season has its challenges, just as each body does. My dad has benign essential tremors. Sometimes his hands shake so bad he can’t hold a cup of coffee. Grandpa had them too. (He doesn’t anymore because he’s dead.) I’ve noticed the last few years that sometimes my hands shake too. Not awful, but they do. I’ve been hyper focused on the tremors lately. I’d like them to go away. Still, they may be something I carry with me the rest of my life.

It seems we don’t get to choose our traveling companions, those illnesses and challenges that often shape us and make us who we are. We don’t get to choose our winters, or for that matter, how long they last. Rather, each day we have to choice to continue this journey, to set out once again on the unknown path regardless of whether the wind blows with us or against us, to put one foot in front of the other.