The little AU: Rising Spring: Renew'd
The little AU: Rising Spring: Renew'd
slashfairy
~~
It's so tempting to start with food, but he doesn't. The best advice he'd gotten was to start with hydration first- and he remembers from Hidalgo how it was harder to get properly hydrated than it was to satisfy any taste for solid food.
So he keeps a bottle of water at hand, sets himself a goal of so many per day. The bottles accumulating on the counter make it less difficult to remember if he's actually drunk any or if he's just sipped at his mate gourd and puttered along from task to task.
Not that he's doing much. He is, but he's not.
He's doing the ordinary things- laundry. Phone calls [very few]. Emails [perhaps a few more of these]. Wandering from room to room, marveling at the colour of everything, at the freshness, even when it's dusty. Sitting, resting his eyes, letting the water he does after all remember to drink begin to flesh out his cells, unstick his sinuses, unscratch his eyelids, unwrinkle his skin. He could drink a river of fresh cool clean crisp clear water, and never drown; too many mouthfuls at a time makes him overfull, a bit nauseated. He paces himself. He naps.
He runs his hand over the books, CDs, pieces of art he's picked up this last time out. Looks at the painting of Roslyn's that hangs on the wall there where the morning light can catch it. Out the window is green and white and activity where the trees flower, where the birds' nests are, and where the bees hum. Outside, sitting barefoot on the porch, he drinks another bottle of water, nibbles at a small plate of fruit, chocolate, vegetables, bread. He'll bring himself back carefully. Not necessarily slowly, but carefully.
Re-entry Karl had called it the other night when they were together.
Once on the ground, renew'd: in faith, in hope, in charity, in life. He sips, and moves from task to task, and has his being, and is alive once more, home from the travels of work well done.
previously: Re-entry
next: Fill
slashfairy
~~
It's so tempting to start with food, but he doesn't. The best advice he'd gotten was to start with hydration first- and he remembers from Hidalgo how it was harder to get properly hydrated than it was to satisfy any taste for solid food.
So he keeps a bottle of water at hand, sets himself a goal of so many per day. The bottles accumulating on the counter make it less difficult to remember if he's actually drunk any or if he's just sipped at his mate gourd and puttered along from task to task.
Not that he's doing much. He is, but he's not.
He's doing the ordinary things- laundry. Phone calls [very few]. Emails [perhaps a few more of these]. Wandering from room to room, marveling at the colour of everything, at the freshness, even when it's dusty. Sitting, resting his eyes, letting the water he does after all remember to drink begin to flesh out his cells, unstick his sinuses, unscratch his eyelids, unwrinkle his skin. He could drink a river of fresh cool clean crisp clear water, and never drown; too many mouthfuls at a time makes him overfull, a bit nauseated. He paces himself. He naps.
He runs his hand over the books, CDs, pieces of art he's picked up this last time out. Looks at the painting of Roslyn's that hangs on the wall there where the morning light can catch it. Out the window is green and white and activity where the trees flower, where the birds' nests are, and where the bees hum. Outside, sitting barefoot on the porch, he drinks another bottle of water, nibbles at a small plate of fruit, chocolate, vegetables, bread. He'll bring himself back carefully. Not necessarily slowly, but carefully.
Re-entry Karl had called it the other night when they were together.
Once on the ground, renew'd: in faith, in hope, in charity, in life. He sips, and moves from task to task, and has his being, and is alive once more, home from the travels of work well done.
previously: Re-entry
next: Fill