Such is Life

“when the living was easy”

Today, driving towards chemo jail, I saw Life. I saw movement in the world, in such a clear way. Though my head was cloudy with sniffles and chemo brain, today I can feel. Smell the smell of the fallen leaves touch the earth, see the brightness of the trees glisten in an Autumn sun.

Today, I drove by a guy standing on the street corner slowly waving his sign for cheap oil changes looking tired and strained, well before the clock struck noon; I wonder what he was thinking. Today, I parked the car and walked towards my favorite pre-chemo juice spot, Healeo, past a yoga studio and across from the first fully sustainable structure that will be completed here in Seattle. How cliche, how real, how of this era, how great that I get to see progress. I notice it deeply, as if I were a scene in a film. I wonder why pretty music is always sad in someway, and why I hide behind tv shows that feature physically strong women with broken hearts. I notice these things today. It seems calm around me and I decide that I am not only going to just observe life or will use a crutch to try to live. I’m still sick, my bones hurt and such, but today I can see and I will try to live. I get sick after I try to live. I have a cold after a weekend visiting with friends and family. I am sure I will be exhausted by the upcoming Thanksgiving celebration, but sometimes that feeling is worth the time spent living. The moment may pass of my feeling this way, but for now I will acknowledge and try, try to crest the mountains, to live.

Tomorrow, I want to spend the morning with my son without help, without falling down. I might even take him to lunch alone, and the next day I might even read a book. The day after that, I have a photo album and art project to finish, the following day I will write, and then I will have chemo jail and listen to beautiful music that is both sad but warms the heart, and I will then plan a weekend away, and then prepare for Thanksgiving. I will enjoy the spoils of an abundant farm in gratitude and look forward to living with each breath I take, in either bursts or quiet slow movements. I will not let this disease paralyze me while I breathe the fresh air in the shadows of a mountain.