The heat has finally abated, and torrents of rain gurgle in the gutters. Birds are chattering in the murrayas, fluttering their feathers as they wash away the grime of the past week.
The oil-burner provides a spark of light in the gloom of early afternoon, and heavy clouds scud across the sky. I savour a cup of tea. It is a time for reflection, for gratitude for blessings, large and small.
My energy, always depleted by the heat, has returned, like a rebirth in the fresh, cool air. Always grateful that the condition that kept me bedridden for so many years is generally in remission, I have spent an active half-hour at the gym. The simple joy of working muscles, the rush of endorphins, the sense of achievement as I increase the weights: blessings that I never thought I would know again.
Twenty five years ago I was diagnosed with ME/CFS and, for 15 years my illness was so severe, the doctors thought I might die. The suffering was compounded by the systematic torment I endured at the hands of an insurance company and the cruelty of their tame medical experts.
But I survived. And, more than that, I thrived. I found therapies that worked for me, a diet that has restored my health, and a community where I am valued and supported and where I can contribute my time and energy to help others in need.
I reflect on my life, and on the gentle patter of water from the heavens, grateful for the cool, the drenching of the soil, the cleansing and feeding of the plants.
Grateful for better health and the opportunity to live life fully once more.
Grateful for blessings large and small.