Over the past few weeks, I've been under the weather, spending most of my time in bed—a huge contrast to my usual go-go-go lifestyle. As I drifted in and out of sleep, coughing or waking just to sip water, my mind wandered into the realm of strange, medication-induced dreams. Somewhere between cold syrup fog and the quiet moments of clarity, I found myself imagining what it might be like if I weren't human, but instead... a porcupine.
If Annie the Porcupine, my beloved fictional character, were real, her days in winter might look a lot like mine did this past week. Except, for Annie, a life of quiet rest and cozy dens is just the norm.
I began to picture myself as a porcupine: nestled in a comfortable bed of soft bark, pine needles, leaves, and dried grass. My little den, hidden away in a small gap between rocks, hidden to any passerby. The perfect retreat. Outside, the winter winds would howl, rushing through the trees in icy gusts. But inside? I'd be warm and snug, lulled to sleep by the white noise of creaking branches and the distant, muffled swirl of snow. The air would be filled with the earthy aroma of pine and evergreens—the perfect scent to soothe my sinuses.
The only predator brave enough to disturb me? My husband, popping his head in to check on me. If my porcupine den had an opening just big enough for a snout, he'd likely take a sniff, catch a whiff of my musky scent—something I wouldn't even notice as a porcupine—and decide to let me rest. (Let's face it, after days of bed rest, my human hygiene wasn't much better than a porcupine's natural state!)
In those quiet moments of reflection, I realized that this experience of forced rest—so unnatural for me—might be a gift. It's a reminder that even the busiest creatures need to pause, take cover, and recover when life demands it. Porcupines like Annie live in harmony with this rhythm, hunkering down through the winter, resting, and emerging only when the time is right.
As I'm starting to feel better, I'm taking a page from Annie's book. Life has its seasons, and sometimes, we're meant to curl up, let the world outside carry on, and focus on healing. So, here's to finding comfort in the quiet moments and to embracing the porcupine life—even if just for a little while.
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