As the burbles slowed, I looked out into my new world again. My eyes finally adjusted to the strength of the sun. I opened them onto adventure. I was ready. Just one more glass of water. Sip.
“Now I can stand. Now I can run!” I thought to myself.
Reality answered, “ Well, maybe jog a little”.
I still felt weak as a newly hatched bird, but a smile returned to my pasty face. What adventures could I conjure up?
My first adventure was with food again. I hear you groan, but this time I was gentle with myself. I was about to meet my father’s eldest sister’s side of the family now and they wanted to take me to brunch at the “club”. There were golfers aplenty on this branch of the family tree, so a lovely posh brunch buffet was my fair. Normally I am one of those people with no sense of the true size of my stomach and heap a plate three times over, just to sample all the goodies spread before me. Today, my stomach had shrunk to the size of a dried up cumquat. I took a humble plate with a scant few items, nothing too racy and nothing with a hint of acidity. Good natured teasing and concerned eyes accompanied me as I nibbled away at my offerings. I am happy to report that I kept it together though. No raced trips to the WC (water closet or bathroom for my Canadian readers) to say goodbye to brunch. A crooked smile wavered across my cheeks as I wove tales of home, family and Canada for my aunt, uncle, cousins and second cousins. I was treated to a tour around the golf course with Greg and Richard, second cousins that were the first people I had met close to my own age. My delicate constitution held back the reveries of hanging out with a younger sub-set too terribly much, but we did discuss possibilities of outings. An errant bubble curtailed thoughts of it happening immediately, but I yearned for it in the future. As much as I loved getting to know all the relatives, I was only 22 years old. I craved conversation that held less purpose and more spunk. It was time to gather the backpack and hit the dusty road.