Thursday, June 29, 2017

Go fast

Some days I LIVE. Some days I exist. I think everyone can relate to that - with or without a terminal illness. There are some days where you just feel like you are going through the motions. There are others where you feel your spirit come alive in everything you do.

When I mentioned to my Mom that I feel like I have really LIVED the past few days, she appropriately asked me what have I done. And to that I responded 'nothing special'. And its true. There was nothing special or significant that I did or didn't do, I just feel like I LIVED.

Maybe its the beautiful weather, getting out to see Ean's baseball games, or watching Sarah go off to work. Maybe its seeing Gillian meeting some summer goals, or eating ice cream, or spending more time laughing with my Mom and Dad. Maybe its the time Adam and I spend together. Sometimes talking. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes just riding together through the neighborhood - him on his bike,  me in my chair. Both of us going fast. Whatever it is, it is LIVING.  And I am doing it.

I have found great joy in going fast. Every evening as the sky begins to darken, I head out into the neighborhood to go fast. I lean my chair back just enough, put my feet up just a bit, and go fast. I go fast past the houses and the parked cars; past landscaped lawns and bikes strewn on driveways. I go fast as I spot the fox crossing the street and the deer coming out for a stroll. I go fast past neighbors walking their dogs and kids being called in for the night. I go fast in the dusk and then I go fast until it gets dark.

There is this thrill I get from going fast in the dark. My whole life now moves slow. The way I stretch out my arms in the morning. Slow. The way I eat my food. Slow. The way I speak. Slow. When I am in my chair, and the sky is dark, and I am moving fast through the cool air, I feel like I am in control but I am really not. It is glorious and independent and exhilarating.  Right now it is my jet-skiing, my bungee-jumping, my motorcycle riding. Go fast.

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