not as good as the book

Life is not like a movie. Thank goodness. Can you imagine having only ninety-five minutes to sort all of this out?

Someone close to me is dying slowly. I do not mean that as a metaphor. She is under consistent supervision and medical care. The diagnosis is terminal.

It is very surreal to see her. Her time is limited, but none us knows by how much. She is also elderly, so it is not altogether a shock. In some ways, I’m being forced to confront what already is. Everyone has a finite time period. Yet, it is hard applying that logic.

I don’t want logic right now. I want an exception to mortality. I want a one-way ticket out of hard thoughts about hard topics that have no answers.

I want someone to tell me the exact right thing to put this all into perspective, but that person does not exist and those words are not meant to be written.

Not tonight.

Maybe, I’m meant to write some words right now. Not the exact right words. Just something earnest.

Maybe, I can meet a hard situation with softness. I won’t pop like a balloon at the next sharp object.