A strange peace

A strange peace has settled over the kitchen. The dishwasher only runs once every second day, instead of twice a day. The juicer is silent and has been for weeks. No pans are used, nothing is cooked. Only the electric kettle goes speedily about is business in a regular fashion - I need countless cups of coffee. The fridge is full - I've forgotten about half of what is in it. Lots of things that Markus said he might fancy, but didn't. No more frantic searching for foods which are tasty and full of calories. No more hectic reading about cancer-fighting vegetables and trying out different concoctions to boost the immune system, mine as well as his. Even my flu jab didn't work. And so there is this strange peace. It isn't a happy peace, but nor is it torn by sorrow and frantic searching. It is more of a winding down, a transition, a shifting of priorities. We seem to be entering a new phase. And it is more pleasant than the last few weeks. My husband is back again - when he was in the hospital, and the first few days at home, he was like a different man, a stranger. He could talk to his sister better than to me. He probably still can, but I don't feel shut out any more - he's not as rejecting as he was. Quite the opposite. He's back again. He can't speak a lot, just in a whisper. But he smiles, crinkles his eyes, finds things funny, makes short witty remarks. Or just sits and holds my hand as I lie on the bed beside him and Ariel, our cat, rubs his face against both of us.Small things, but they give such great pleasure.