If you’re participating in the A to Z, are you a pantser, like me? Or are you a planner? Someday I would like to grow up and be a planner. 🙂
Done Waiting for Real Life
Yesterday you looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since, well, you can’t remember. In stark light, you saw how he’d aged. How had that happened? How had 25 years slipped through your fingers like sand?
Now here you are at the hospital, waiting.
Appropriate. You’re good at waiting. You’ve been waiting your whole life for your real life to begin while being swallowed in a psychedelic maelstrom of turgid thoughts.
People talk about wake-up calls. Is this yours? If he lives, will you allow yourself to live? Invoke the deity of life? Laugh again? Repair the chasm in your raft and leave the shore?
The doctor, young enough to be your son, begins talking. Words like high blood pressure, stress, panic attack swarm. He’s going to be all right.
Backsliding. You feel yourself do it immediately, even as you go to see him, until you see him, pale, small in a hospital gown, vulnerable. Something wrenches in your heart. Something grabs your brain–a shock.
This is life. Life you’ve been throwing away day by day by day with your inertia.
You grab his hand, lace your fingers as you haven’t done in forever and breathe in the first breath of your re-life.