Healing

I got out a saucepan to heat water for tea - I hadn't found the kettle yet; I suppose it was in one of the few kitchen boxes I had yet to empty. I'd drink a mug of Sleepytime, and then, when I was sure I could no longer keep my eyes open, I'd go upstairs to lie down. In the morning, I could cross off another day. I put my hands to my lower back, stretched, allowed myself an oh God. "Healing hurts," someone at John's service had told me. "But hurting heals."

-excerpt from The Year of Pleasure by Elizabeth Berg