It was a surreal morning.
No sound in the car for the first few blocks.
You know, it's funny when a song starts playing and it cuts through the tone set earlier.
It's funny when the lyrics weave and wrap themselves around your thoughts and bones.
Ribbons wrapped, winding and flowing.
I have this hope.. as an anchor for my soul..
This wasn't a project assigned in the office.
This wasn't navigating a system of convoluted middle management.
This wasn't a weight on a barbell.
This wasn't a multiple choice test.
Who knows what level of life in between..
To drive away from home, with a full realization deep-down-inside that you might not ever be back there again, and that in a matter of hours you might be part of the past tense and no longer a living, breathing member of this planet.. well, that's a fascinating feeling.
Go ahead, tip-toe into the shallow end of that daydream pool.
There was a list of 7 names who my parents should be in touch with.
They only heard back from 6 of them.
Letters were left on my desk.
You would be surprised to learn who they were for.
Pen and ink.
My heart on paper.
Just in case.
Two years ago they strapped my arms out and back.
Two years ago they sawed open my chest.
Two years ago they cut out a piece of my heart.
Two years ago I said goodbye to my family.
Two years ago I said hello to them once again.
Today I celebrate the beat of life beating in my chest.
Today I celebrate hope that served as an anchor for my soul.
Today I celebrate the lessons I have learned about
To the marrow.
To the bone.
To the individual beat inside my chest.
To encounter life's weather patterns again.
To encounter simple joys.
To encounter countless shades of the darkest night.
To encounter the rebirth of what matters.
To encounter the nonsense of the workplace.
To encounter the metabolic challenge of a met-con.
To encounter the brunt of a barbell's weight.
To encounter the depths of love.
To encounter the depths of pain.
Today I celebrate my second year post-op.
Today I celebrate life.
Every.. day.. Everyday.
Every day is a new day.
That reality, is priceless.
Every single day.
Born. Reborn and born again and born again.
The good days.
The red line down my chest serves as a reminder:
I have this hope, as an anchor for my soul.
365 x 2.