Life is short. Life is fragile. Life is both wonderful and cruel. As I sit here with my mother in the next room in a drugged-out haze, post-surgery for her broken wrist, I contemplate just how delicate everything really is. I remember also when I was young and foolish and didn't think about the importance of family and your loved ones. I consider myself lucky now that I appreciate the little things in life that make the day to day worth it - the routines, the familiarities, but also the adventures and newness a day can bring. Maybe I'm wiser now than I was when I was younger, I don't know. But I do know that it's really easy to become mired in bullshit while the important things in life become neglected.
I'm not exactly an exciting person. I live with my family and take care of them while they take care of me. I spend most of my time working on my books, and don't exactly live life to the fullest. But I do try to savor what life I do lead, especially when it's with the ones I care about.
I've lost a lot of people along the way - friends, family, lovers - death doesn't give a shit. I think it takes those losses to appreciate that life isn't static, and one by one, we lose everything in our journey through life.
My mom is going to be ok. In six week or so, she'll be back to normal. But right now, it's hard to watch her suffer so much pain and be so miserable because she can't use her right hand/arm.
In a week weeks, my dad is also having knee surgery, so I'm gonna be nurse Matt around here, taking care of both of them. I'm glad I can do that. I'm glad that I have people I love.
And people who love me.