On my way back from Baltimore this weekend, I had to go through the same toll we used to drive through after our visits to White Marsh’s Franklin Square Hospital. Clark would lean out of the driver’s side window every time and say, “Can I get in your seat, please?” and they’d hand him a receipt. Then we’d laugh hysterically. It never got old. I had forgotten about it until just as I pulled next to the booth, and then it hit me and I couldn’t stop smiling.
Archive for January, 2010
how is this supposed to work?
January 4, 2010Here’s what’s confusing: The Rebecca who unexpectedly stumbled upon Clark in a bar on a Thursday night didn’t fret about what her life was going to be like. I just went about my business, accepted invitations, worked. I met people, I made plans, I went on dates, I liked what I liked and things were fairly simple. Now, after having Clark taken away from me after a 16-month literal fight to the death? I have this constant sense of urgency informing my life. Like I can’t just let things happen, I have to make them happen. I have to say everything I’ve ever wanted to say. I have to let you know things that before, I probably would’ve just kept to myself. I sometimes fear that if anything good is going to happen to me, whether professionally or personally or creatively or whatever, I have to make it happen with the same strength I put behind my will to fight Clark’s cancer. I fear missing out on any possible chance I could take. I am afraid that if I fall into a routine, I’ll miss out on some amazing opportunity. This kind of thinking exhausts me and makes me panicky.
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to fall into a day-to-day routine situation where I’m not constantly peeking into corners in a search for the good stuff. I see examples of people stumbling upon the good stuff every day. I stumbled upon the good stuff when I met Clark. It’s hard to muster the faith to believe it could happen again, but I’m trying.
