small girl vs. big city

I write sometimes while sitting in traffic… which happens a lot in L.A.. I found this in my phone… thought it was funny. Thought I’d share…

I may have lost my mind. Listening to Blondie sing Heart of Glass and driving though south central. Standing out doesn’t make me want to roll up my windows… It makes me want to be an undercover cop. Shudder to think of me as a traffic cop, enforcing laws that are in place more for revenue than order…I’d go rogue. But undercover, catching people in the act…where do I sign up? Target practice? Yes Weapons training?!? Yes Pleeease! Getting shot (as long as I don’t die!) might be one more item on the been there,done that list. Ok so that’s a little too insane. But… still. A different identity. Secrets. Doing society a secret good deed… Sigh. Makes lounging by a pool or prancing through life via parties…so unproductive.

Then again. Being punctual, diciplined and organized may be out of the realm of my possibility. Limiting my excuses to put on false eyelashes? No makeup? Who am I kidding

Do you see. The white mid day sun. The butterflies dance on flowers. Do you hear. The birds singing your song. Do you feel. The wind kiss you hello. Do you know. How much you are loved.

See. The same ol beat. Hear. My own footsteps. Feel. Hair annoy my face as I fight with the wind to keep it out of my eyes. Think. Of bills. To do’s and have to’s. 

Here. Box #603. Key…Yawn. Coupons. Junk. Junk. Bill. Not for me. Bill… This one’s weird. White envelope. No return address. Hand written… Hmm… Rip…

Dear Ms…

We have received the results, and we urgently inform you the results were positive. Unfortunately, it is terminal and we do not have an accurate remaining life expectancy. Fortunately, every living person in the world had the same result.

Sincerely,

Life

Stop. Time time time has to stop. Cruelly it refuses. The letter slips from my hand and the wind carries it away. The bills. The junk. Are scattered on the sidewalk… next to me. I cry for 20 eternities on the sidewalk. A neighbor or two stepped over me on their way to their own fate. All too lost in sorrow, I lacked the motivation to even look at them. My eyes are too busy trying to burn in memory every leaf and flower. Every blade of grass. Time refuses to listen to me and stand still. In fact, it only rushes faster the slower I move.

Enough. Walking turns to running. New to do’s. Who to call first. Did they get the news. Do they realize. We’re all going to die… eventually.

My nana received her letter last night. She has no specific time. But she does have cancer. Her liver is surrounded by inoperable tumors. Saying this. Seeing it in black and white makes me cry. I rarely cry for worthy causes, so I let it. But not for long. When I see her. Which will be soon. I refuse to look at her with sadness in my eyes. I will not let abnormal cells dull the time I have left with her. We have something in common. We all do. Some of us have a name for it. Some doctors may give you a guess. But none know exactly when. Nor how.

All we have is… each other… and of course: now.