- Walking Nature Home
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- Walking Nature Home A Lifes Journey Louann Atkins Temple Women Culture
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- Walking Nature Home: A Life's Journey (Louann Atkins Temple Women & Culture Series).
Report item - opens in a new window or tab. Description Postage and payments. I think we should separate. He attempted suicide. I saw a counselor. One afternoon, I sat in a wicker chair in her office with my chilled hands wrapped tightly around a mug of hot tea, and agonized about 14 [ wa l k i n g n a t u r e h o m e what to do: Kent needed me. My health was going downhill.
Walking Nature Home
How could I take care of myself and also take care of him? She listened until my voice trailed off. My choices seemed at once so clear and so painful. I showered quickly and twisted my long hair neatly atop my head in a Gibson girl bun. Shivering with cold and nervous tension, I pulled on hose, slip, and my dress-for-divorce frock and then checked my image in the tiny mirror in my closet-size apartment bathroom. My skin was tinged a deathly yellow shade. I rummaged in the rusted metal medicine cabinet for the makeup I rarely wore, brushed some pale pink powder across my freckles with shaking hands, and carefully painted my lips a brave shade of red.
Half an hour later, I stood before the judge in a nearly empty courtroom at the Park County Courthouse. I sat straight-backed for courage, goose-pimpled arms hugging my chest for warmth. We walked down the wide courthouse steps and, at the bottom, shook hands. A wave of loneliness washed over me. I clutched his hand like a life preserver.
He looked down at me, his eyes concerned. We exchanged good wishes; he walked away. I looked up at the blue sky, searching for a glimpse of the stars to point my way on a journey that I had never imagined for myself. Unlike Huck, however, I had no hankering for adventure.
I wished fervently for the sight of Orion, striding confidently across the sky. I squinted, willing the pinpricks of light to appear overhead, but they remained invisible, obscured by the glare of day.
I wiped my eyes and walked home. The two stars to the right of Hamal are a binary pair linked like astronomical Siamese twins by a shared gravitational field. Puzzled, I walked over and dipped my hands into the sink— then pulled them out immediately, shocked by the icy water temperature.
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My doctor had sent me to this specialist to check her diagnosis. He greeted me in a perfunctory manner, sat down, and paged through my chart. Then he walked to the sink, opened a tap, and waited in silence until water had filled the sink before instructing me to immerse my hands. He looked at his watch. The cold bit into my skin. The nerves in my hands screamed with electrical impulses relaying pain to my brain, and then finally, blessedly, went silent. An ache worked its way up the bones in my arms to my shoulders and then into my chest. Goose bumps marched their pimply topography across my skin.
My fingers turned yellow, then blue, as the capillaries spasmed, shutting off the blood flow, with its essential cargo of oxygen. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. My fingers were as pale as wax, and about that useless.
Walking Nature Home A Lifes Journey Louann Atkins Temple Women Culture
He tapped the middle knuckle of my right hand with a reflex hammer. Nothing happened. He tapped again, harder. He dropped my hands, turned away, and began to write in my chart. I suggest you make an appointment with the psychiatry staff.