I hesitate to write about infirmity. It tends to be depressing and can devolve into a sinkhole of self-loathing.
There are pleading conversations had with the body and ultimatums the body forces upon you. No longer making promises, not even to myself— I apply beauty products and dare the universe to laugh at my pain…
Mornings find me deep in gratitude— yet today I burn hot with rage, remembering a childhood full of benign neglect. Wanting to travel back in time to hug the junior me — to slay the fire-breathing dragon.
But I cannot change the past, nor do I wish to make peace with it.
Today the sun is shining and so will I.