Image description: A group of three strawberries nestled together with their leaves
Bleary eyed and sweaty I stumble from the bed. It’s dark, so dark that even the familiar pathways in my apartment seem treacherous. In the dimmest light possible. I test. I’m low. Too low. That explains the feeling of weakness in my legs, the clamminess of my skin, the dull confusion with which wander from place to place.
A brief flash of light.
I see them.
I feel in the drawer for what I need.
Sitting at my desk, in near total darkness, I take my first bite. Sharp. Cold. Sweet. Fresh strawberries brought for my lunch bucket robbed from the fridge to serve the purpose. To give pleasure, a sensuous start to the day, a sweet end to the dull confusion. I sit quietly and eat.
The computer, itself sleeping beside me, seems peaceful. I don’t want to press a key and light up the screen. I don’t want to type a password and then find out what’s happening in the world … anywhere.
Because here is dark. And cold. And sweet. And strawberry.
I don’t like pounding back a juice when I’ve got low blood sugar. I figure if you are going to have diabetes, have strawberries!
It’s early but I decide to do my exercises. I’m early enough to get the whole set in, they run about an hour and fifteen. I normally fit 50 minutes in in the morning. The bowl of strawberries is set aside, and I begin.
Still tasting strawberry.
