Blown by the Winds of Life.

I’ll be off for my hospital appointment shortly. When I was making my bed this morning, I remembered that one of the most poignant aspects of clearing my mother’s house after her death was to find her bed made. She’d gone to hospital three months earlier for investigations into a persistently painful hip, and made the bed in full expectation of sleeping in it that night. But they’d found serious problems and she never went home again. The bed stayed made as a reminder that life is forever nudging or pushing or throwing us in a different direction, and sometimes it can be a bit dramatic.