I go to my radiation appointment every weekday. I don't go anywhere else because I don't dare get sick in the middle of these treatments. I project myself into a future where I can go to a bookstore, go out to lunch with my sister, and I have to jerk myself back into the present: Right here. Right now. I hear myself thinking, "I want my life back," but of course, this--THIS--is my life. Every moment of this life is filled with what was--we are not tabula rasa every morning--and so I get it about your father now and then, and I get that we are daughters and mothers, past present future. THIS is filled with all of that. And really, I don't want to miss a moment of it because it's the only thing I know for sure that I have, this breath--right now--
All of my imagined meaningful moments, always present and chattering in my head, what if thoughts back and forth, impossible to parse into action or truth. Aching responsibility offset by past gaffs, cannot fix, cannot stop, a circus of rabid, angry, sad, needy monkeys with bloody fangs.
Just an incredibly powerful essay. Like the other commenters, the way this pulled me right into my own present moment was unexpected and needed.
I was thinking recently of when my first baby was in the NICU, and how little else matters but every moment and the gravitational pull of that place, every breath full of worry and something that's like hope but not quite hope. Just is.
I think there's a certain "in limbo" state that's taken over us. The pandemic has just made it more visible. But it was there before. Beautiful post as usual.
I go to my radiation appointment every weekday. I don't go anywhere else because I don't dare get sick in the middle of these treatments. I project myself into a future where I can go to a bookstore, go out to lunch with my sister, and I have to jerk myself back into the present: Right here. Right now. I hear myself thinking, "I want my life back," but of course, this--THIS--is my life. Every moment of this life is filled with what was--we are not tabula rasa every morning--and so I get it about your father now and then, and I get that we are daughters and mothers, past present future. THIS is filled with all of that. And really, I don't want to miss a moment of it because it's the only thing I know for sure that I have, this breath--right now--
It feels like we are all tripped in limbo, waiting. Waiting for something, anything, to be better.
All of my imagined meaningful moments, always present and chattering in my head, what if thoughts back and forth, impossible to parse into action or truth. Aching responsibility offset by past gaffs, cannot fix, cannot stop, a circus of rabid, angry, sad, needy monkeys with bloody fangs.
Just an incredibly powerful essay. Like the other commenters, the way this pulled me right into my own present moment was unexpected and needed.
I was thinking recently of when my first baby was in the NICU, and how little else matters but every moment and the gravitational pull of that place, every breath full of worry and something that's like hope but not quite hope. Just is.
I think there's a certain "in limbo" state that's taken over us. The pandemic has just made it more visible. But it was there before. Beautiful post as usual.
Greetings from London.
Wonderful piece, Elizabeth.
Perfect quote for this post. Beautiful writing,
What a beautiful piece of writing, Elizabeth.
I hope so, but it all runs together. And it's all separate. Scenes from a movie.
"...something like insurance or what you will be studying or let’s talk about your future." Yep. I miss my dad. ❤️