True Story

It was a chemotherapy day -- a pleasant enough experience in the blue plastic recliner. We laughed a lot ... enjoyed speaking with the student nurse who "interviewed" me.

I'm working tomorrow. I don't typically work the day after chemo, but there are things to do & meetings to facilitate. It's a stretch.

We'll see.

Something happened on the way home from work yesterday. It had been a typical sort of day in the vaguely disgruntled mode. I didn't feel terrible, but I wasn't turning back flips. I was busy and distracted and irritated-around-the-edges by Anger Management Nurse.

I was still reeling from the news I received of the sad condition of my liver. Oy vey. My liver.

Anyway, that was my day. And then I was in the car -- reducing my carbon footprint -- and I turned on the radio.

The song that was playing instantly took me to a (literal) hundred concerts I'd attended with Eric, that I'd attended with my friends. In that moment, I remembered something about myself. I thought about dancing and laughing and silliness. Stupid crafts and cocktail parties and mix tapes. Sparkles and glitter and travels and collages.

I thought about Eric, and how he introduced me to a world I didn't even know to imagine; how he took the ability I'd always had -- even in the darkest of my years -- to experience joy, and spun it into the stratosphere. Eric turned the lights on and showed me something fun, and real, and loving, and without irony.

And so there I was, driving home, grinning ear to ear. Which makes me very, very, happy for the radio, and other stuff, too.