The winter crud has arrived at our house.  So far, I’ve escaped its notice, but Nyel is in the coughing-sneezing-wheezing stage and I know my time will come.  Even in a big house, it’s hard to avoid those pesky germs and, anyway, it’s probably one of those tit-for-tat things.

I’m sure his ailment can be traced back to working most of last week at the middle/high school – a veritable hotbed of infectious activity.  In my teaching days, I was the one who brought home the crud each year and Nyel was the unwitting recipient.  It’s one of those ‘what goes around comes around’ things.

January has been a ‘cold month’ in this household for a good many years.  In 1914, almost ninety-nine years ago to the day, my grandmother wrote to her daughter, Medora:

It has been impossible to write because I have one of my weepy, blurry colds — only worse than usual.   This A.M. have my face all done up in flannel – am a beauty.  Have neuralgia due to having partially dislocated my jaw last night –I bit a cough drop.  It was hard and slipped, wrenching my face.  I will attempt a letter tho you may find it muddle-headed…      I guess too much vanity gave me my cold.  The buggy came from grandpa when I was in a hot kitchen baking.  I was so delighted with the “looks” of it that I ran out into the cold and rain to see closer…

Willard … has been having three days of slight fever and croup.  He is not in bed but looks wilted.  Dale has one of her wracking bronchial coughs and so has Mona.  In fact, every member of the household barks until we sound like a kennel.

I love her images – ‘done up in flannel,’ muddle-headed,’ and especially the barking until they sounded ‘like a kennel.’  I’m sure it was equal parts humor and endurance that saw her through the ailments of seven children, to say nothing of herself and my grandfather.

Somehow, it’s comforting to go back and read her words – a good reminder that this, too, shall pass.