Fragile... The word comes to us from Old French, thence from the Latin fragilis or frangere meaning to break. Tucked somewhere in there is the Indo-European bhreg and the Gothic brikan, both meaning to shatter. In modern parlance, the word means easily broken, damaged, delicate, brittle, frail, vulnerable, flimsy, lacking body, strength or substance.
That which is fragile is often assumed to be anything but robust or bright, and certainly not vibrant by any means, but it's not necessarily so. Fragile, bright, robust, vibrant and strong are not mutually exclusive, and they abide harmoniously together. Could anything be more fragile and at the same time, brighter, more vibrant and brimming over with robust life than humans and the island earth we share, the journey we are all on together?
My beloved is back in hospital this morning, and all my thoughts and attention are with the dear, beautiful, fragile man I have loved forever. Spencer and I wander the house at odd hours of the day and night and try to comfort each other. I listen for telephone calls on my cell and check for messages, read something to pass the time and think that I must remember to share it with him, whatever it is. Meal times slide by unnoticed, endless cups of coffee are brewed and grow cold. Absent minded at the best of times, I always seem to be losing things like bank cards, keys and reading glasses. I am easily distracted and wild places keep floating by behind my eyelids at night, places we visited together and loved: Old Woman Bay on Lake Superior, Grise Fjord, Baffin Island, a certain frost touched grove in the Lanark Highlands on a foggy autumn morning - not an urban setting in the bunch.
Looking up at the morning sky through the spokes of a dandelion, everything in existence seems oh so fragile, and all is precious. Please let him be well.