Finally, Light

Photo by Claudia Soraya on Unsplash

No, I am not talking about moving to Daylight Savings Time last Sunday. Or the Spring Equinox next week. Or the upcoming solar eclipse (we are right in the path of totality here in Ohio) on April 8.

I am talking about the light at the end of the medical tunnel I have been in since late August. For the first time in months, I can see a growing light up ahead and finally believe that it really IS light and not just the headlamp of an oncoming locomotive.

Don't misunderstand me. I still have a lot (A. LOT.) of rehab ahead of me to strengthen and regain better use of my right wrist/hand/fingers. I am doing daily exercises at home with the option of having formal physical therapy if my progress stalls. There was a lot of damage to the median nerve, the one that controls the fingers. (What am I saying? There was a lot of damage to my wrist, period.) I am slowly starting to walk more regularly; the long layoff in the fall, the long layoff after fracturing my wrist, and major arthritis in my left knee have all contributed to my having to relearn how to walk at a steady and consistent pace. The incisions from the gallbladder removal in late February are healing; my brilliant surgeon just gave me the post-surgery clearance. 

My biggest hurdle is that my energy levels are still average (for me compared to pre-autumn 2023) at their very best and pretty darn punk at their worst. That means that even on days where I am very careful to pace myself, I am still worn out by early evening. (I will not mention the days I overdo it, even with strong, loving reminders from Warren, Katrina, Pat, and others not to overdo it.)  

At my lowest points, I get teary at realizing how much ground I have lost. At my highest points, I appreciate how far I have come from those very bleak weeks back in the fall. It is not unusual that I experience both the lowest and the highest points in the same day. 

Every single day I am grateful I am even still on this earth.

And that is more than good enough. 

The 2024 Newbery Award Book

Let's just say I was less than thrilled when I opened up this year's Newbery Award book, David Eggers's The Eyes & the Impossible, and realized it was a story told by a dog.

A dog.

I immediately had unpleasant memories of Smoky, the Cowhorse, the 1927 bomb (in my opinion) that had the horse "hankerin'" for anything from food to his stall. And let's not forget the 1992 winner, Shiloh, which I still think of as the boy/dog/triumph-over-evil yawner.

I admit, I had an attitude before I read the interminable first sentence:"I turn I turn I turn before I lie to sleep and I rise before the Sun."

I told myself to just take a deep breath and keep reading.

What the hell is this story about? Is this a dog's view of the World? Life? Immortality? The Universe?

Just keep reading, April.

The Equilibrium? Is this a religious exploration?

Just keep reading, April.

What are those hypnotic pictures about? And all those little faces? Is this a book set in a dystopic future? Is some group being targeted for round up and internment?  

Just keep reading, April.

I was probably more than halfway through the book before I realized that, all my overreaching questions aside, I was caught up with Johannes (the Eyes) and his role in the animal community in which he lived. At the three-quarters mark, I had to finish the book to see the resolution. Would he succeed? Would he not? 

I am glad I just kept reading.

I am being deliberately vague about the story, so as not to spoil it for any of you who may read it. Just know that I was smiling when I finished. (And if you do read the book, also admire the artwork, all "Illustrations of Johannes," by Shawn Harris, threaded throughout the novel in full-color, two-page spreads. The cover art is by Harris.)

The Eyes & the Impossible is about community and solidarity. It is about liberation. It is about going forth. It is also, as the author reminds us in an introductory note, about animals as animals and not as animals symbolizing people. (There are humans in the book.) "Here, the dogs are dogs..."

I first read David Eggers when his memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius came out in 2000. A writer? Eggers is a writer, an artist, an activist, and more. Just go look him up. 

So here's to the 2024 Newbery Award book and its author. This one is golden. 

I am so glad I just kept reading.