Boom goes the sky

The light ripped across the sky. Colours melted into each other, one boom after another.

It was Canada Day, 2026, and we were tucked away in bed, watching the spectacular show through the open curtains.

We had moved, recently. Our bedroom was now on the second floor and it allowed us to see a view of the world not previously gifted to us in our old house.

What a year it’s been. Or rather, I should say what a year it hasn’t been. Last fall, I woke up unwell. My body ached, my heart pounded, and I felt as though I were on a boat. I assumed I had caught something, or that perhaps I was just a bit run down. I told myself I would rest and be back to my usual routine soon.

So far, “soon” hasn’t yet decided to make an appearance. 

I’ll spare you the details, but I’ve heard a lot of “your test results are all normal” and not nearly enough of “we’ve figured out what’s going on with you.” Simply put, every day I just don’t feel well.

As I continue to row down this muddy river of deciphering what the heck is going on with me, seemingly without a paddle, I spend my days very close to home. Dinners out and visits with friends have taken a backseat to curling up on the couch, and some days walking to the community mailbox seems like an outing in itself. Moments of spontaneous optimism are balanced with thoughts of despair, but I try not to let myself get caught up in either emotion for too long.

This is, after all, what every Buddhist book I’ve ever read has been training me for. 

As I watched the explosion of colours in the sky, I was reminded again of the importance of sitting with each moment. Months prior, I would have been reaching for my old smartphone, hopeful to get the perfect picture to post to Instagram. That was behind me, once again, as I had deleted my account and decided the best place for that smartphone was in a spare bedroom, turned off and out of sight.

I guess what I’m trying to summarize, is that my world has become quite small over the past few months. I work throughout the week, try to do my regular chores, and spend time with my husband at home. It’s quite a contrast to life this time last year, but I can’t say it’s any worse or better. For every outing I miss, I’m given time to look inside, and to be a bit more introspective than time would previously allow for. 

So, here I sit. The fireworks have given way to the last few plumes of smoke in the sky. Night takes over and I lay back down, grateful for the free show.