Monday Pep Talk

Slow and steady, my foot is healing. I’ve graduated from stitch-stitches to liquid stitches, to steri-strips, and now butterfly band-aids. Tonight I was able to do light karate movements on a smooth hardwood floor for about an hour. My foot doesn’t feel like a gigantic, deep cut anymore. It just feels like somebody dropped a cinderblock bookshelf on it—a sort of achy pressure. Trust me. This is better than the wanting-to-burst-through-the-stitches pressure.

I saw a friend in passing last week at the Montessori school. It was one of those moments where you wish you had the whole day to talk about non-sense until it all makes-sense. We were both grumpy for no good reason, yet smiling. I wanted to say: “Is it possible to complain and be so in love with this life that it hurts to do anything but live it?”

An achy foot. Crow’s feet tracing my eyes. Sunspots where I used to have a rosy, natural blush across my cheeks. A wrist that no longer squeaks but is still puffy. A pinky finger joint with similar inclinations.

All I want to do is eat brownies and write until I’m the last one standing. I never thought that wanting something so bad could feel so good, but it does. Everyday I wake with a great secret: I am doing what I want to do, doing it as well as I can at this moment, and this is only the beginning.

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