The Place That You Have Come To Fear The Most.

This is going to be a different kind of blog, for once. I guess so, anyways.

It's more for the prayin' type of person, people who believe in a higher power. If you don't then that's fine, too. Think about it, if nothing else.

I know someone who knows someone whose mother was just diagnosed with colon cancer. Now I know that sounds like the beginning of an urban legend, but it's true. I received a text message earlier tonight about it, and I guess it got me thinking.

Life is precious, whatever this part of our existence is. And the times and memories and places and faces that are pressed and burned and recorded in our minds are unique and particular and beautiful and sad all at the same time. We are like the chaff, here for a moment then gone.

But in that time, that quick rise of dust in the timeline of eternity, we live. And we live around people and with people and even for people during that brief instance. And we grow to love them and nurture them and birth them and, sadly, bury them. It is the way of the world, the way things will always be, it seems. But as vanilla and neutral as that sounds, it holds so much more breadth and depth to it. Entire lifetimes, years go by, we interact and interweave with one another. It blows my mind that we, as humans, can be.

Love. Maybe the most amazing gray matter here. It exists, I hope it does. I think it does, I've seen it, been apart of it, am a part of it. I could go on and on until I was blue in the face about it, but it is one of those things that when people experience it full on, unbound, it can change your world. And I hope in that Love, I want to believe that it is out there for me, that whole "one for me" kinda Love. It exists in many parts, has many hands, but that certain one seems to elude me.

But I say all of that to say that I am thinking of this person, and her family and the memories and the images and all the things going on inside her head. And I hurt for her, and for her husband and for her children and friends. So pray for her if you can, pray for her husband and her children and her friends. Pray that G-d will heal her, if He wants to.

Finally, I hope that one day when I'm old and gray and full of sleep and that perhaps if Love has found me and kept me for a bit and I am holding her hands, both our hands wrinkled and worn, and our fingers are arthritic but entangled, we will dance in an open field under stars and constellations that have been there for thousands of years. And her eyes, to me, would have never changed, neither her smile or the way she smelled, and I would smile, probably with false teeth, and that she would rest her head on my old shoulder.

Pray for her, that she would do the same. Pray for me, too, while you're at it. And pray for yourself.