The other day I opened up the overstuffed manila folder entitled "f#$king cancer b*&llsh*t" in order to retrieve some information that seems like it left my brain 10 years ago. Could it have only been a couple months since I placed it there? Surely this nonsense has been going on for my entire life. It's ludicrous to me when I reflect on the ancient memories of chemo and surgery. Maybe my brain found a way to encrypt those moments with the same threadbare architecture of faded memories that have long since lost their credibility as having really taken place.
2010, you certainly were interesting. Thank you for letting me close you out, for letting me read stories to my babies tonight, for letting me help new friends build a simple fire, for letting me tell the world and everyone in it how much I love them, for letting me get my sh*t together enough to build an army, for letting me feel the warmth of my new footie hoodie pajamas, for letting me see that my friendships transcend all attempts of description, for letting me see the true nature of the human spirit stripped down to it's fundamental goodness, for letting me realize what a gift you are. 2010, I can't seem to focus on all the tears your brought, at least not those cried in sadness. Thank you for that.