Sometimes I laugh for no reason. Sometimes I'm in a library. Sometimes I'm by myself. Sometimes I'm walking. Sometimes I'm eating. The laughs, they come. They well up within me like so much gas when you're sitting next to a pretty girl. Can't fight it bro, it'll only make you sick. And no giggle or silent nod mind you, but my full, throaty, devil-sounding laugh. I don't know why. But for the longest time, such has always been the case.
It was my inclination to write about all of the possibilities that could be, to lead you, the reader, down a primrose path of the potential this and that. But I know why it is.
I am blessed. I say this with a resigned smile. I'm not jumping up and down, nor am I broken down and bent in self-flagellation. I say this with as much confidence as I have that I'll draw my next breath. I am blessed.
I think I've lived a charmed life. Born to amazing, loving, God-fearing and incredibly intelligent parents who literally wanted nothing more in the world than to have a baby boy, I was an answer to their prayers. They tried for years after having a miscarriage, and I, quite literally, received the early nomer of their "miracle child." I was given all I could hold. Then I was given more.
I have an older sister, a younger brother (and best friend/young man who will always be my #1 fan) and a little sister, who amongst everyone else in the family, is probably built the most like me. An entertainer, wise-ass and my own personal cuddle-buddy and foot-warmer.
If that wasn't enough, The Lord felt like he had to let the WORLD know I was blessed by delivering me from Cancer when the chances were not mine. Apparently the Sky-writers were sick that day.
Sometimes I laugh for no apparent reason. No joke in my head. No deja-vu of a Simpson's episode. Sometimes, I dance too.
I have all I need. I've known the sweet torture of the pain that comes with a chemo-infusion. There is a scent of a particular antiseptic cleaning product, that to this day, makes me nauseous. But those only served as the stand-up base-line to the Coltrain trumpet of my jubilation tip-toeing and splish-splashing its way through my life. Without the base, I wouldn't see the trumpet in my mind... I'd only hear it. Base, trumpet, cow bell: blessings all.
I've known of love with the capital "L." And, I guess I've also known what its like to lose it with a capital "L."
But to be honest, the hurt that comes with not talking to Erin is nothing compared to the warmth I get when I remember the sensation on the ticklish part of my heart when I heard her voice. I knew what it was like to smell her on my clothes. To hold the most beautiful woman I've ever seen before or since, and kiss her in the middle of an Airport, for any Texan to see.
Even the thought of never talking to her dissipates as smoke from a candle at the thought of the woman she is becoming, the good she'll do, the people she will touch. I do not worry about Erin. Few things are so strong as her.
Sometimes I laugh for no apparent reason. I cannot escape my joy. A smile cannot leave my chubby cheeks. I cannot walk in front of a mirror without seeing the 11 inch scar upon my abdomen -the flesh healed- and knowing of the favor I enjoy.
At one time I could have told you a story about the pressure of this knowledge. But really I was selling you yesterday's paper while pointing at the date. I knew better. I am Jonah. If I screw up too bad, there's always the whale.
Its 6:20 AM. And I'm laughing for no apparent reason. But appearances are tricky things.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
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5 comments:
Cheers partner. Nothing like small Coincidences but the theme for the mini-TEC is Count your Blessings, not your worries. If there is anybody I can picture laughing in the middle of a library for no aparent reason, it is you. MILK
I'm very thankful for all that I have, too. It's good to be appreciative of how lucky we are, for example, to be born into a society with a decent standard of living. I'm just thankful every day that I: a) don't have a terminal illness, b) have full use of all of my limbs, c) that I can eat whenever I want, d) that I have shelter, e) that I'm not totally alone, f) I don't live in a country that's in civil war. I often times feel guilty, actually, for having things so easy while people in, say, Rawanda are enduring genocide while I ponder what I want on my sub sandwich.
The possibility that, on any given day, all that I hold dear could be taken from me is never far from my mind. I'm not a religious man, but there's a verse in the New Teastament (I believe the Apostle Paul said it) that, when paraphrased, says something like: don't just assume that there's going to be a tomorrow.
Anyway, I apologize for the length.
11 inch scar? i have a five inch scar on my butt. it's kinda cool if you ask me.
oh man, myles... SOOOOOO many directions i could go with that one...
too much, Stace, love, or not enough?
I'm down with you, Myles my man. Share the Pain!!! (and by pain, I mean, "Shhh, don't scare the commenters away")
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