Got through lung cancer. Got through chemo. Got through picking up and carrying 42 pounds of water in the house this morning.

I’ve been having vivid dreams lately, which is pretty neat. I like to wake up with interesting thoughts and old music playing out in my head.

Inspiration is coming back. I’ve missed it. When my world narrowed into rounds of chemo and recovery, blood tests and booster shots, my focus shifted inward for months.

I’ve picked up a new target shooting hobby. I rarely doom scroll anymore. There are too many interesting things to look at and do.

I don’t miss the 28 pounds I lost.

scenic view of mountains during dawn
Photo by Stephan Seeber on Pexels.com

 

This morning, I arrived at the intersection of mortality and denial.  The past, present, and future sat at a cafe table, sipped lattes, and watched as my steps became hesitant.

The past delicately placed a five on the table.  “My money’s on knowledge.  She’s seen this one before and chose–well, if not wisely, then correctly.”

Present added a fiver. “I don’t know. Lately, she’s been just waiting and not doing. I’m going with what I see now.”

Future smirked and placed a ten under the cold candle. “You all know I have to cover both positions.”

I looked both ways and sighed. There must be a third choice I cannot yet see.  Frost may have gotten it wrong. I took out my notebook and started writing down the possibilities.

Wings sprouted from my shoulders and lifted me up, over the intersection, over the obstacles, away from the cafe. From above, I could see both roads.  I clutched my notebook to my chest and smiled. So, the writer’s way, then.

A passing waiter collected the money off the table and smiled at the trio staring openmouthed as I disappeared.

“It’s a push. Better luck next time.”