Collecting eggs, and coming back

Collecting eggs again — and this basketful means more to me than breakfast.

This amount represents how long I've been sick. Every day the hens kept laying while I couldn't keep up, and the pile grew, patient and unhurried, the way recovery does its own quiet work.

Today I gathered them all in one go, and my body felt up to it. My stamina is coming back — a little more each morning — and it feels good. The girls were glad to see me, and honestly, I was glad to be out here with them.