Staring Down the Barrel of Age in the Middle of a Hostile Government Takeover

I’m reading a book voraciously this morning, swallowing down pages like I did the Chinese take-out last week, like I do most things these day…it’s Sunday and it’s supposed to be Sacred Sunday — a day of slowness and quiet and rest, a day without the distractions of technology and that loud, noisy world…but the silence these days is hungry, it needs something to fill it up before the monsters come, before their loud clanging of concerns vibrates my mind at a deafening frequency. They’ve already invaded my spine, their long, worried tentacles crippling any attempts to move forward, their slimy bodies slithering into thoughts at night, racing thoughts and me running faster than I can in the wake of days — the technician lists off the degenerative changes, the demineralization, osteophytes, and narrowing spaces, but neglects to mention the impact fracture caused by my inability to see past my own feet. I’ve never been one to skip to the last page of a book, I swear, I’ve always trusted in the ability of its pages to take me where I need to go, to help me manage the outcome with whatever dose of resilience was needed…but this? this story? I am already so braced for the ending there are days I can’t move.

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On a lighter note, if you have not read Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, please do. It’s a lovely read.