This Quaker burial ground dates back to the early 1700s. I pass it coming and going to my sister’s apartment. I noticed it especially today and not just because the snow made it beautiful. I’d heard a podcast on the drive up about opening ourselves to the idea that in every single moment, we receive the greatest possible gift: our lives. And in the next moment, we receive it, and the next. This had the same radical softening effect of the repetition, “I have arrived. I am home. I am here.”
This moment is a gift (I’m alive!) and this moment is a gift (still alive!) and this next one, too. Of course, spending time with someone who doesn’t drive, struggles to walk, and needs oxygen most of the time can make a person grateful too (I’m running an errand! In a car! Going into the drugstore on my legs!)
Now that I am no longer paid by the state to act as one of my sister’s PCAs (personal care assistants), it’s easier. I go for a visit. Not to labor. I thought I might mind losing the income. But this is so much better.
We watched The Wendy Williams Show and priced French presses online. Ate pizza. I bought her wine (a battle I gave up ages ago). And then I left.
Now that I’ve got a podcast app on my phone and figured out Bluetooth settings for the car, I worry a lot less about the drive. Last summer, really long delays were making me crazy!
And tomorrow is another day to write! To walk around on my legs! I am here. I have arrived. This heating pad is the best ever. There is food in the fridge, shows in the queue. A love bug dog shares the couch with me as dark falls. We are not over, America.