Light Changes

I’ve been ill. A lot more ill, apparently, than I imagined I was – and that brought me up sharply. Like a horse pulling up at a fence. So, there have been two days of sitting still and watching things happen, and listening and occasional reading. I’ve been too ill to read, really; which has been a shock, realising that my fundamental retreat is temporarily out of bounds.
        What I’ve been left with (and I have to point out I have been very well looked after) I remember from the last time I was this unwell: conversations in the street, sounds of cars, sirens, motorcycles and trains. Changes in the light. I wonder that I don’t get lost in them, but I don’t. I seem simply to be here, a minute or two at a time, sometimes aware of the various unpleasant things occurring in my body, sometimes talking, stroking  a cat. Breathing, which is getting easier again, and trying to follow the changes in the light.
        The light has been my main preoccupation. When I was very young I almost lost my sight and spent many weeks unable to see properly. I remember the orange-darkness of the hospital ward, and the sounds of doctors, other patients, nurses and most of all the floor cleaner. I liked that because it meant it was nearly the start of a day. All the time, I could barely detect shapes, more the light. Here in my bed I can follow the light through the leaves in the trees, still mainly green but browning, onto the white walls of my bedroom. I felt this morning as if I was being bathed in white light but the sky was grey. It was something to do with the room, maybe, as if it were alight around me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s