Because memory re-writes itself on every recalling, why not journal to note this change. Not to ledger growth and diminishment but to see a bigger story we never knew we where in.
Die With Dignity
Explaining to an elderly family member living in another city who insists on venturing out into crowded stores and shops.
The risk is real. Consider this: Would you go out if there was a sniper randomly killing seniors waiting in line? For oldies like you, the risk of Covid-19 is significantly higher, like 100 snipers shooting people at random. As a smoker with a pre-existing condition, your husband will certainly die alone in an oxygen tent if he gets infected from you. We are already worried enough. We are sickened that if something goes wrong we cannot travel to you to help. Please, for our sakes and yours, be ridiculously careful at this time. You are at risk!
I'm at risk for everything. Toilet paper is dignity. I want to die with dignity.
Some days . . .
Some days with you are a cascade of perfect moments, not because they are sublimely excellent, but because they are normal, just an ordinary day and I remembered to be awake to recognize it. Sometimes, I'm convinced I'm actually far far in the future lying still in my bed recounting my best days . . . one last time. If so, this was surely one of them, because you were there.
ALLISON: I don't like how you always portray me as sassy and sometimes confrontational on Facebook.
ME: What do you care . . . you're never on Facebook.
ALLISON: Because long after I'm gone, your posts of me will be history's only record of what I was like.
ME: Well, Hermeneutics is a bitch.
Allison: Look, when faced with a difficult question, you can't just give the answer to a different (and easier) question. Why are you so availably heuristic?
Me: Because . . . . umm . . . my favorite ice-cream is strawberry.
Allison: Stop doing that.
Fasting Day One:
Me: I’m so hungry.
Allison: You’ve only been fasting for 10 minutes.
Fasting Day Two:
Me: Now I know what McCain must have endured in war prison
Allison: I am so going to slap you
Fasting Day Three:
Me: last night I dreamt I was lying on a giant tatter-tot floating on a sea of melted cheese towards an island of cake.
Allison: Shhhhh. Sip your cold mushroom broth.
Fasting Day Four:
Me: What’s in that bowl? It smells absolutely delicious!
Allison: Purina dog food for the dog.
Fasting Day Five (last day):
Me: Why! Why am I doing this?
Allison: Don’t you remember? You are fasting to transition your body into a ketonic metabolic state to loose abdominal fat and also to generate signaling pathways that evoke autophagy, a maintenance mode for your cells, that some research suggest will help you live a healthier longer life. AND, you are also fasting to enlarge your soul through hunger.
Me: Am I more spiritual now that I’ve fasted for 5 days?
Allison: Yes. If spiritual means being a whiny bitch.
What is that Smell
Allison: (While walking into the kitchen) What is that smell?
Me: Ah . . . I don’t smell anything.
Allison: Your kidding, it's horrible, we must have a dead rat in the attic!
Me: We don’t have a dead rat in the attic.
Allison: (Disgusted while waving her hands) Where is it coming from?
Me: Honey. Please. It's not that bad.
Allison: (Now standing in front of me). Are you kidding! Ugh. Its worse over here. How can you just stand there and say it's not so bad? I’m calling the rat guy.
Me: We don’t need to call the rat guy, it will get better.
Allison: (Realizing) Oh My God. You just farted, didn’t you? Warn a girl! (While quickly exiting to fresh air).