But still I try

May 15, 2009

This is a good moment. For that I am thankful. My brother-in-law Roy is here visiting for the weekend. Roy, Jeremy and I went to the Barrio Brewing Company for dinner. It was so relaxing. We sat out on the patio and watched the trains go by ($1 off pints whenever a train passes by - kinda fun). The place was buzzing, so many smiling faces, happy to be off work for the weekend. As we were leaving another train was going by. A woman, probably just a little younger than me, squatted down on the sidewalk near her just barely walking daughter wearing pink crocks and a sundress. The mother pointed to the train going by and as the sound got closer and closer the little girl backed into her mother for safety. I thought, "Oh, I want that," and turned and looked away.

We were listening to Bonnie Prince Billy (sp?) on the way home. There was a line in one of the songs to the effect of "I could have been a father." It caught my attention, but I didn't comment on it. I didn't want to ruin the mood of the music as Jeremy and Roy were listening. But then Jeremy commented on it. "That's something I can relate to," he said. I patted him on his knee and smiled.

We notice things now. Like we're pointing at an object in a department store window as we walk by. A fleeting wish will follow, but the reality of the empty piggy bank at home is ever present, so we don't stop to stand at the window and stare. Why tantalize ourselves? Not now. Maybe later.

I was having very real memories of life with an ostomy on my way home from work this evening. They were tactile memories. I could feel the bag hanging off my side. I could feel the peristalsis of my stoma. I told myself to stop it. I don't need to remember that. I don't need to try to imagine life like that again. Dr. T said at the end of our appointment on Wednesday that she wanted me not to worry about things, but to enjoy my life. "That's what I want; for you to just enjoy your life, okay?" She was so kind.

So that's what I'm trying to do. I'm stopping myself in the middle of a moment and awakening to all that I have; to the goodness in the moment. Because when you really stop in a moment, what could be so bad in that moment? (So long as you aren't in pain, right?) Easier said than done, but still I try.