Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Dying Is Easy, Young Man

Your head is full of fantasy, again, wild storylines run rampant around you as you navigate subway rush hours, grocery stores, chores. Illness rattles your body but it is not the cause of this delirium, you are. Even as a child your mother says you made up stories, your whole life you've been acting out dialogue you couldn't pursue in real life. Sometimes it strikes me that perhaps everyone does not do this, and I am floored. It takes me twice as long as usual to scale the stairs out of the underground, my limbs falter, my breath doesn't reach the lungs, but here we are.

But did you see the sunrise this morning? Did you take a moment today, just a moment, to stop and think how singular your life, how extraordinary the gifts you've been given? I wrap mine up sometimes, when I've forgotten to see them, truly see them, and then it's as if they arrive to me brand new, with colorful ribbon and sparkling announcement of their arrival. See me. Remember me.

I had a fight today so mesmerizing I forgot all about the laundry I was folding, all about the cold air seeping in through the crooked windows, I had a reconciliation and a trip to the moon, I know the real world requires our presence but we are there plenty. Come, play hooky with me for just a while, let's see what's around the corner.

The real world will wait
for the treasures we can bring on return.

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