I turn 28 tomorrow. Some of the wonderful things about being "grown up" is the amount of freedom I have, making my own choices, getting to see the world.
But one of the worst parts is the reality that comes with it. All of a sudden I feel like my last link to childhood is diminished. My family put our family cat to sleep today. A few years ago, we lost my beloved dog, Abby. That was one of the worst things I've faced. Since then, our other old cat, Lucy, died. And tonight, the night before my twin sister and I turn 28, my sister and mom took our cat, Chloe, to the vet to put her down.
In the meantime, my young, 50 year-old uncle, a vibrant, warm, funny, kind man--had a stroke a week and a half ago. He's married--so in love with his wife, they are famous for walking around their Oregon neighborhood hand in hand. And they have two kids who they cherish. They've almost been annoyingly perfect. Until now.
I believe he'll be okay--he's been amazing the doctors. That's just how he is. But they just had a setback when they found some blood on his brain.
There is so much heartache in life. Cancer, diseases, accidents, wars, hunger. It makes no sense and is a giant game of Russian Roulette--except we are not choosing to play--we have to.
What makes us go on?
It's these times when I understand the most why children are so wonderful and important. They keep us innocent. They help remind us to look at the world with fresh eyes, to notice the wonderous.
I think I need a game of Duck, Duck, Goose.
