After the two full moons of July which neither is blue,
I am now faced with some major dilemma.
August will only have one full moon
but August is threatening my chances
of seeing it. Hmmmm . . .
I am sure you know what I am talking about.
I already blah about it two posts back.
But now I have to verbalize everything again
without sounding like I am a never-ending
drama queen of travesty.
But that is how real stories go sometimes.
People get cancer, they get well.
They lose a dog, they lose a chunk of themselves.
They adopt and rescue dogs,
and their world is a-alright again.
Now, somebody tells you your world
is going to crumble in minute pieces.
You knew the exact day and the exact hour
and you wonder if this whole thing
is just a big joke.
Maybe it is.
Maybe there is a hidden camera
and the writer of this episode
is somebody more quirky than me
and I am the big star of this drama
and I am bungling my script
as always. . .
Two years ago this month
I had surgery then radiation.
Looking back now and how I went through it all
and how I am going to go through another one
I realized that no matter how major it is
that no matter how scary it was for my friends
I knew, deep in my heart, that I will be ok.
That I will blah about it leaving you in suspense
yet the ending will be sublime.
That strange feeling of calm
is the knowing that it will be ok.
So I started my countdown until D-day.
That dread major earthquake
is coming sooner than anyone thought.
So, at the risk of sounding silly,
I started a journal of warnings and advices
on what to do, where to go. . .
So, one night, after a gruelling day
doing details of a major art fair,
I went to bed exhausted
but a nagging voice insisted I pack now.
Omg, is it happening tonight? tomorrow?
But it is too early for the date that I was told.
So at midnight I started packing my stuff.
My portfolio, documents, basic essentials . . .
I had to add and subtract as I go along.
How does one pack for tragedy?
What does one lug into the unknown?
And as I closed my luggage wearily,
this old trusty bag that accompanied me
in my many travels to distant places
looked back at me sadly this time.
We are not really traveling in excitement.
We are preparing for an unknown journey.
And I knew I am not ready.
Where are the batteries, the ziplock bags, my tags?
But I closed the bags firmly.
How foolish to think I am ready.
I am never ready for any of these plots.
I am never ready for surgery, for cancer,
for radiation, for losing my superdog,
yet the endings were always happily ever after.
I can hear the words distinctly,
"oh you of little faith!"
Indeed, I went through it all in faith.
How foolish to think otherwise.
So I continue with work.
Enjoying the moments in my workshop.
Immerse myself in the now
and knew that whatever happens
my ending will always be
happily ever after . . .