Màiri came down with a fever our very first night here. This has all been too much of a strain on her tiny body and soul. She needs to hibernate and do absolutely nothing for a while. It’s been three long nights of sitting up in motherly vigil. She’s sick in the sort of way that leaves me sitting up into the morning, holding her just so, for hours on end, just to let her rest. Every 40 minutes or so, she’ll cry out in pain and I’ll slip her some more aconite and sooth her back to sleep. I miss her sweet smiley self. I’m eager for her to reemerge out of this cloud of illness.
I’m finding the house to be very beautiful. Though it doesn’t completely eliminate it, it does somewhat cushion the blow of loosing our home. I think we have a chance at being very happy here.
In those rare moments when Màiri is resting peacefully, I’m devoting my time to getting to know this place; exploring the nooks and crannies, observing it’s different moods, it’s various quirks and idiosyncrasies, the way the light moves across it throughout the day…
I had forgotten how noisy a house with things can be! The water pump, the washed and dryer running, the dishwasher. My ears aren’t used to the sound of modern life. Oh, but I do so welcome the chance to acclimate!
I had thought that once we landed, I would immediately spring into action, preparing for the holidays. So far, all I’ve managed to muster is a bit of knitting around Màiri while she sleeps. As she starts to feel better, I’m sure the rest will come too. I look forward to getting out to explore the land and town here and getting to know our new community. But for now, the quiet home bound pace that this little girl has set for us, is right where we need to be.