spring_equinox ovenbird What sends down roots as the sun balances the ocean’s scales is a fragment of virus that takes up residence in my throat and sinuses, inflaming soft tissue, and applying a vice to the bones of my face. Outside the pollen drifts like a yellow cloud of contagion. We were supposed to spend the weekend with friends on the island, but I’m too sick to go and had to cancel. My daughter woke to the news and cried her despair into the hallway carpet. She’s been looking forward to seeing her friend for weeks. They had craft plans. They had game plans. They had snack plans. They were going to swim in the pool. And I ruined it. There is no equinox in parenting. Every decision tips the scales so that someone ends up disappointed or angry. When I get sick I don’t have the luxury of simply attending to getting well. I also need to compensate for being out of commission. I have to carry the devastation of those who were depending on me to ferry them to a fun weekend getaway. I have to delegate household tasks that I’m suddenly incapable of doing. I let people down in a hundred tiny ways so that my heart is sick as well as my body. The spring makes grandiose promises. Every day there will be more light! Just think of it! The sun has triumphed over the winter darkness. But my eyes are slick with the flu’s effluvia and my vision keeps blurring no matter how many times I blink. I want to draw the blinds and sleep until nothing hurts. But the world keeps insisting on its burgeoning, everything sticky with sap and desire. My lashes are gummy with sickness and sweat. And maybe it’s all the same in the end. Nothing balances for long. I’m here at the very centre of my life and, already, there’s a cold breeze coming from the north. 260320 what's it to you? who go blather from