When things really were “normal” — one year ago
I TURNED 70-YEARS-OLD THIS MONTH — and I feel like I’m 30. That ain’t normal.
I’m living across from the park uptown and most of the sounds I hear are those of ambulance sirens. That ain’t normal.
I have so much to be grateful for in my life — and I don’t usually “do” gratitude lists — they make me retch. That ain’t normal.
I am eternally grateful for my “vim and vigor” —which I never was as a partying young thang. The older I get the more I want to, ya know, seize the day. And that ain’t normal.
The highlight of my day is clanking pots leaning out the window precisely at 7pm — givin’ it up for the nurses and doctors killin’ themselves to keep us alive. That ain’t normal.
I’ve been fuckin’ around about my “number” for the last 7 years. Now I don’t give a shit. I’m 70. That aint normal but should be normal.
I’m about to watch my 8th news show of the day. It’s 4:00. That ain’t normal.
I’m living with my partner who I NEVER intended to co-habitate with. But here we are — “in case.” Some days I want to chop him up into little pieces — Sweeney Todd style. Other days it’s “oh lucky me.” I am hearing this is very normal.
I now love phone. Fuck texts! Gimme the voice! And that ain’t normal.
I’m happy to rejoin the Social fold after a few weeks off — social isolation begot spiritual isolation. And that ain’t normal.
Virtual hugs and resilience. Lookin’ forward to catching up.
Maryjane