Sunday, February 11, 2018
This is the worst thing that's ever going to happen to me. I sit with that knowledge for a while.
I'm 36 years old and this is my one cross to bear. Everybody gets a tragedy.
If I survive this, I will not be waiting for the other shoe to drop. There is no other shoe.
I feel a measure of what seems a little like comfort. I hold on. I can just about do this. This is what passes for okay news now.
Except that it takes me almost no time to realize that the floor underneath me is fake.
There is no one in charge here. There is no one doling out trouble, one per person, one at a time, only what that person can handle.
There is no universe that owes me a damn thing. Shit is random. Nobody is organizing it. Nobody is making sure anything is fair.
Years later, this is still my greatest tragedy but I'm no stranger to bad news. I'm that person who walks into eyes of hurricanes. I don't look away. I'd do that for you. You wouldn't even have to ask.
Not everything is bad. Some people died. Others survived. The survivors are here with me now. They turn up at the most opportune times. They say wise things. The kindness of other people!
I laugh so hard I almost forget to breathe. I see beauty in rubbish and sidewalk cracks.
With everything bitter there is some sweet. I still don't know what's going to happen, though.
Bring it on, I say to all of it.
From the archives:
All of the roads they did lead here
The very second you lost me